


Unexpected

by ClaraKeanen



Series: Unexpected-verse [1]
Category: TOLKIEN J. R. R. - Works & Related Fandoms, The Hobbit - All Media Types, The Lord of the Rings - All Media Types, The Lord of the Rings - J. R. R. Tolkien
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Alternate Universe - Everyone Lives/Nobody Dies, Curses, Dedicated to all the Thorin Oakenshield fangirls, Enemies to Friends to Lovers, F/M, Friendship, Gold Sickness (Tolkien), M/M, Strong Women in Middle-Earth, Trample the Patriarchy, What makes a family
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-04-29
Updated: 2019-06-13
Packaged: 2020-02-10 01:17:27
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 21
Words: 69,417
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18649978
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ClaraKeanen/pseuds/ClaraKeanen
Summary: “I wish I could tell you more, I truly do, but those are the rules, sweetheart. And I’m afraid the time has come. You must make your choice. You may either remain here in this world, with no memory of our conversation, or you may choose to come with me. But, should you choose to accompany me, know that you will never be able to return here."Anna stopped speaking, and Arya felt the silence in her apartment louder than she ever had before. Her heart began to beat in her ears, her breaths became short, her head started to spin -Her eyes flickered over to the picture of grandfather on the wall, his smile setting something aflame in her heart that had felt dormant ever since he passed. And a voice, so quiet Arya was almost certain she dreamed it, floated past her ears: This is your chance. Take it."I accept."





	1. In Which It Begins

**Author's Note:**

> A one-shot Thorin Oakensmut that somehow turned into a total Hobbit rewrite piece that sets up the Oakensmut that will absolutely follow in the sequel because apparently I have ZERO creative self-control. (Apologies to Tolkien, but I had to fix the films.)

_“_ It was my last day at St. Anne’s today.”

The cold stone on the ground didn’t respond.

She sighed, gripping the flowers tightly between her fingers. “You were right. You always were.” She shook her head slowly, her breath becoming a faint, saddened laugh. “I don’t know, I – I'd always planned on working at that hospital. But it just didn’t feel right.” Her voice grew quieter as her eyes dropped down onto his name. “And I don’t know what to do.”

 _You’ll figure it out,_ the memory of her grandfather whispered in reply. _When the time comes, you’ll know where you’re needed, and that’s where you’ll go. And you will do incredible things, my dear. Just you wait._

"Sorry, miss, but we close at six on Saturdays.”

The gruff interruption dispelled the memory of her grandfather's voice almost instantly. "Of course." She set the bouquet of forget-me-nots next to his gravestone, nodded at the grizzled gardener, and made her way towards the gate leading out of the cemetery. Once there, she straddled her rusty yellow bike, tightened the straps of her bag around her shoulders and pedaled away from the cemetery.

\---

It had started raining on her bike ride home. _Of course._ It seemed this was just her luck these days, ever since – _No. No more sad thoughts. Not today._ She'd stowed her bike in the garage, nodded at Ms. Harrison and her cats as she made her way upstairs and stepped out of her rain jacket the moment she entered her small attic apartment.

Flicking the switch on the wall, she hung her coat above the small pail next to her door. The lights flickered on above, illuminating the sea of nursing textbooks haphazardly stowed in boxes which were waiting to be resold. Grandpa Sean’s pages of worn sheet music were sitting in a haphazard pile in front of her small television. Her Master of Science in Nursing degree from Johns Hopkins was hung proudly on her wall, next to a picture of her and Grandpa at graduation. He was already frail then, but he'd insisted on coming to the ceremony.

“ _My granddaughter graduating nursing school – at twenty-three!” He’d exclaimed happily as he hugged her, his shaking arms wrapping themselves gently around her body._

_“I’m just so glad you could make it,” she’d replied, a teary grin on her face._

_“Are you kidding?” His smile matched hers. “I wouldn’t miss this for the world.”_

For what felt like the twentieth time that day, unbidden tears flew to her eyes. He’d sacrificed so much for her, working long past retirement, donating what little money he had to her education, all so that she could be successful. So she could have her best shot at a happy life.

“ _Hey now, this is no time for tears.”_

_Arya shook her head, pressing it against his frail hand. “I can’t do this. I can’t go on without you.”_

_“Arya, sweetheart.” He pulled his hand back towards him, and Arya forced herself to sit up, to smile through her tears at her grandfather’s prone form, so small against the starched sheets of the hospital bed. “You will be just fine. I promise. It’s like I told you when your mother and Anna left. People you love may have to leave you, but their love never does. And I - “ his voice broke off as he smiled, tears in his own eyes. “I will always be with you._

_“Promise me that you will find a new family. Promise me that you’ll allow yourself to love someone else.”_

_She’d nodded, the tears fully streaming down her cheeks as she kissed his hand. “I promise.”_

Sitting down onto the well-worn sofa, Arya pulled a blanket around her shoulders, shut her eyes, and let her tears lull her to sleep.

\--

"Arya."

She stirred slightly.

"Arya."

The voice was louder now, insistent.

"Wha - ?" Blinking rapidly, she pushed herself into a sitting position, dizzy from the sudden movement.

“Arya.”

The voice seemed strangely familiar. Blinking, Arya narrowed her eyes at the figure standing in front of her. As soon as they adjusted to the dimly-lit apartment, she felt her heart drop into her stomach. _No. Way._

"Aunt Anna?"

Anna beamed. Her pale skin seemed to emit its own glow, her blackish-brown hair to emit its own sheen, and her chocolate brown eyes to reflect the warmth of the solitary light hanging from the apartment’s ceiling. Anna was tall, far taller than Arya had imagined, and she was dressed in what appeared to be some sort of medieval nightgown?

"It's good to see you Arya,” Anna spoke again, smiling down at her. “You've grown to be quite the young woman." Anna stepped closer and pulled on one of Arya’s dark brown curls, watching as it bounced and settled just past Arya’s shoulders. “You look just like her,” Anna said, eyes running over Arya. “Except for your eyes, of course. You’re lucky; Dad always had the prettiest eyes of us Callahans.”

Arya dropped her head into her hands. “It’s just a dream, it’s just a dream, it’s just a dream -”

"I hate to burst your bubble, dearest, but this is very real.”

Shaking her head, Arya kept her eyes squeeze shut, focusing on vigorously massaging her head. “Okay. So. Delusions. Great, now I’m delusional.”

“Arya, relax, this is not a delusion.” The woman – Anna – grabbed hold of Arya’s hands and yanked Arya to her feet. “We don’t have time to waste. I’m here, and this is real.”

“Okay, sure,” Arya replied, “I’ll go along with this. So, Aunt Anna, where have you been? And why are you here now? And where were you when grandpa -” Arya’s voice cracked, and she looked away briefly, brushing her hands against her watering eyes.

Anna’s face grew drawn, her eyes swimming with unshed tears. "If I could have been here, I would have been here. As it is, I'm only allowed over for this trip."

"For this trip? What do you mean, this trip?”

“You have a lot of questions. It’s okay, I did too. And I promise, I will answer them, just not yet.”

“Not yet?” Arya scoffed, throwing her hands in the air. “Then when?”

“Once you’ve made your choice.”

“Made my choice? What the fuck does that mean?”

"The choice that I made, and that your mother made, and that many of our ancestors made. The choice to go where you are most needed. To go where you have your best shot at a happy life."

 _When the time comes, you’ll know where you’re needed, and that’s where you’ll go,_ her grandfather’s voice echoed again in her mind. _Just like your mother, and your mother’s mother, and her mother before her._

Arya felt her hands begin to shake. She slowly dropped her hands back to her sides, focusing on remaining calm and breathing. "I don't understand."

"I think you do.”

“No,” Arya repeated, shaking her head back and forth frantically. “You and Mom died. It’s the only logical explanation.”

“Is that what Dad told you?”

“What?” Arya frowned, taken aback. “No, he said you had to go somewhere else, somewhere you were needed. I just figured -”

“Yes, well, clearly I am not dead,” Anna replied with a snort. “The choice we made is beyond such parameters of this world.”

Arya began to chuckle in disbelief. “I’m losing my mind. I’m twenty-three and already losing my mind.”

“Enough, Arya,” Anna spoke sharply. “Our time grows short. I am here to offer you a choice. A choice between remaining in this world, and between going to another."

“What?” Arya squeaked, backing away from Anna. "That's insane!"

"That's the truth, Arya. Every so often the fates decide that it is in the best interest of creation itself for the worlds to intersect. They do not do so lightly. Those who are asked, who make the choice to go, do so with the knowledge that their existence as they know it will change forever, as will the fates of those lives that they touch.

"It sounds incredible my dear, I know it,” Anna grew quieter. She began to walk back towards Arya, who matched her step for step, backing as far away from Anna as she could. “You have the opportunity to do some real good, to take your skills and talents to a place that is desperate need of it."

"Skills? What skills?”

Anna nodded at the nursing degree hanging on her wall. "They call it 'healing', where you’d be going.”

"Healing? I'm not a witch!"

"With your skill, to them, you'd practically be a god."

Arya felt her back collide with the apartment wall. Sighing, she shut her eyes, focusing all her attention on maintaining steady breaths. After a few moments, she opened her eyes and looked back at Anna. “Fine. Let’s say I don’t think you’re completely insane, or that you’re some sort of strange fever-dream. Where would you be taking me?"

"I cannot tell you any more until you agree."

Snorting, Arya dropped her head back against the wall. “That’s convenient.”

“It is the truth.” Anna’s face grew sad as she looked at her niece. “I wish I could tell you more, I truly do, but those are the rules, sweetheart. And I’m afraid the time has come. You must make your choice. You may either remain here in this world, with no memory of our conversation, or you may choose to come with me. But, should you choose to accompany me, know that you will never be able to return here."

Anna stopped speaking, and Arya felt the silence in her apartment louder than she ever had before. Her heart began to beat in her ears, her breaths became short, her head started to spin -

_When the time comes, you’ll know where you’re needed, and that’s where you’ll go._

_You’ll do incredible things, my dear. Just you wait._

Her eyes flickered over to the picture of grandfather on the wall, his smile setting something aflame in her heart that had felt dormant ever since he passed. And a voice, so quiet Arya was almost certain she dreamed it, floated past her ears.

_This is your chance. Take it._

Her eyes flickered back to Anna. “Wait right there,” she rushed out before sprinting into her bathroom. Grasping hold of the large duffel on the floor of the bathroom, Arya began grabbing as many toiletries and medical supplies as she could gather out of her medicine cabinet. Then, running to her bedroom, she scrounged through her drawers, grabbing as many undergarments and simple, multi-purpose articles of clothing as she could find. Arya also grabbed several of her notebooks from grad school, a handful of pens, an unopened bag of Dove Chocolate, her half-used deodorant stick, and made her way back into the living room. Slowing down slightly, she gently unhooked the picture of her and her grandfather from the wall. Last but not least, she grabbed the stack of her grandfather’s sheet music, shoving it on the top of her bag. Zipping the duffel shut, she turned to face Anna, hand outstretched.

"I accept."

Smiling, Anna grabbed hold of her hand. "Hold on, sweetheart. As your mother once told me, it's gonna be one hell of a ride."

The world around them dissolved in a flash of light. Arya shut her eyes on instinct, squeezing them tightly as wind seemed to scream around the two women. It seemed like Anna was trying to communicate encouraging words, but Arya couldn't hear them over the sound of the wind rushing past. And then, as suddenly as it began, it stopped. The humid air of her apartment was now a cool breeze, the darkness of the overcast city gave way to bright sunshine, and the sound of rain to the sound of chirping birds. Taking a deep breath, Arya opened her eyes to find herself standing in front of perhaps the most stunning hillside vista she had ever seen.

"Arya, my dear, welcome to the Shire."

 

 


	2. Concerning Arya

Arya's mouth opened and shut uselessly for a few moments. "Wait – the Shire?" She finally squeaked.

"So you're familiar," Anna laughed, watching her niece's flabbergasted expression. "I take it Dad read you all the books."

 _That’s an understatement,_ she thought, eyes racing across a vista that was something out of her dreams. The hill they were standing on – had landed on? - gave way to reveal a whole interconnected series of rolling hills covered with emerald green grass. Several dirt paths led through the hills, broken up by the occasional bridge crossing a small stream. It seemed all of the inhabitants of these hills were out and about. Arya squinted her eyes into narrow slits, desperate to get a better view.

"Beautiful, isn't it?" Anna continued from behind her. "I hate to interrupt your first glance of Middle-Earth, but there are some things I must tell you before I leave."

Arya whirled back around to face her, Hobbiton forgotten for the moment. "Leave? You can't leave! We just got here! And I’m still not entirely convinced that I’m not in a coma!”

Anna smiled again, but this time the smile did not reach her eyes. "I journeyed into the West centuries ago. My feet are not meant to rest upon this soil. But I can assure you, my dear, that this is entirely real."

"Wait, hold on, into the West?" Arya frowned. "But only - " Realization dawned as she took a closer look at her aunt. There, hidden behind Anna’s wavy brown hair, were a pair of pointed ears. "You're an elf?! What? How -”

"A story you will hear in due time." Anna paused and turned her head, as if listening to a sound that Arya was unable to hear. "I cannot stay much longer. I wish I could remain here and guide you through, but that is not what the fates intend. I can, however, pass on these gifts.

"The first is this." Anna stretched out her hand, revealing a slightly-worn backpack. Arya took it hesitantly, looking back at her aunt. "Whatever supplies you may need from our world will appear here."

Arya frowned, examining the dirty bag in her hands. "How does that work?"

Anna shrugged. "I'm not quite sure, to be honest. It was a gift given to me by Gildred the Blue upon my arrival here before he journeyed south. It will not bring over things that you want, but things that you need, so know the difference. It doesn't grant wishes, although believe you me," Anna leaned in, as if to whisper conspiratorially, "it's has always had chocolate whenever I've had a craving.

"The other is this." Anna stretched out her hand, and Arya felt a whirl of fabric around her body. Looking down, she saw that she was now dressed in a simple white dress with a corseted green apron over the top, hardy brown slippers on her feet. She grasped at the long skirt, admiring the intricately embroidered light green vines.

"First impressions are important, especially in Hobbiton. I would keep your modern clothes for the moments you have to yourself, but this should last you until you can afford more appropriate clothing.

"I'm afraid the time has come for me to return West, dear one." Anna held out her arms and embraced Arya one last time. "Be safe, be good, and most of all, be happy.” A cool breeze whistled by her, and Arya opened her eyes to find herself embracing nothing, as if her aunt had never been there in the first place.

She just stood in the silence for a few moments, stunned at her surroundings. Grasping hold of the skin on her arm, she squeezed it between her nails and winced at the pain. _Nope. Still not dreaming._ Picking her abandoned duffel off of the ground, she swung it over her left shoulder, swung her backpack over her right, and began the descent into Hobbiton.

\--

This Hevensday started out just like any other. Bilbo woke up at the crack of dawn, made himself a large breakfast, spent the next hour or so smoking longbottom leaf while sitting in his garden, and made his way into town for second breakfast with Fastolph Bolger and Dinodas Brandybuck. Dinodas and Fastolph were the closest to what Bilbo could call friends, with the exception of the Tooks on his mother's side and the Gamgees who lived next door. Fastolph was an elderly widower who didn't speak much, while Dinodas was the now retired head of the Brandybuck family who had a knack for always knowing the latest Shire gossip. Fastolph and Bilbo would usually sit and listen to him as they breakfasted, with Bilbo commenting on Dinodas' news every so often. As such, Dinodas was in the midst of retelling Mayor Whitfoot's speech at last night's town hall meeting when little Sam Gamgee came panting down on the path, calling out Bilbo's name.

"Mr. Bilbo! Mr. Bilbo!"

Frowning, Bilbo nodded to both men as he stood. "If you'll excuse me."

"Of course – now, as I was saying, Otho was the first to speak after our good Mayor concluded his piece," Dinodas continued, merely acknowledging Bilbo's departure with a wave of his hand. Fastolph didn't say anything; he just grunted and continued to eat his scotch eggs.

Bilbo shook his head to himself and turned just in time to see Sam skid to a stop in front of him. "Is everything all right, Samwise?"

"It's Gaffer," he panted, pulling on Bilbo's pants lag. "He's hurt!"

"Hurt!" Bilbo exclaimed. He took off down the path towards Bag End, Sam's quickened steps echoing behind him. While it wasn't a long distance from the town center to Bag End, it was a rather warm spring day, and Bilbo felt his breath growing short in his chest. However, he persisted, and he was only a few feet away from the Gamgee's upset buggy cart when he suddenly came to a stop.

He felt Sam bump into him from behind. "What is it, Mr. Bilbo?"

Bilbo gaped at the sight in front of him. "Something truly peculiar, Samwise," Bilbo muttered to himself.

Samwise peeked from out behind Bilbo and frowned. "A girl?"

"No, not just a girl, Samwise. A human."

\--

Arya's stroll down the hillside into the Shire was deceptively long. It wasn't that it was a long or difficult walk by any means, but she moved slowly, chaotic thoughts swirling in her brain, most of them repeating some variation of _this can't be real_ and _dear god what have I done_ and _how on earth am I going to explain, well, ME, to anyone?_ However, once her feet touched one of the dirt paths of the village, those thoughts screeched to a halt, and only one, quiet phrase reverberated around her head. _Now what?_

All of the sudden, the loud whinny of a horse broke through the air, and Arya glanced up just in time to see a buggy cart capsize, knocking an older looking, white-haired hobbit onto the ground. A female hobbit with curly golden hair came running out of a burrow and began yelling, and a small hobbit – the smallest person Arya had ever seen – began running in the opposite direction.

Arya leapt forward, jogging towards the scene. The sound of the woman's voice grew louder as Arya drew closer.

" - told you, Hamfast, you should have waited for Mr. Baggins!"

"We don't need to trouble Mr. Baggins with this sort of thing, Daisy, I'm quite all right on my own!"

"Stubborn, bothersome hobbit - "

Arya came to a stop in front of the couple. _Baggins? BAGGINS?_ She forced herself to snap out of her thoughts as she cleared her throat. "Are you all right sir? I saw the cart upset and I - "

The couple looked up and stared at her. Daisy gasped, raising her handkerchief to her mouth. Hamfast, on the other hand, merely shook his head. "Thank you for your concern, miss, but I'll be right as rain in no time."

Arya nodded in acknowledgment before narrowing her eyes at the way his arm was uncomfortably splayed out. "Can you move your arm at all?"

Hamfast began to flush. "It's nothing, miss, it will clear up in no time - "

"Do you mind if I take a look?" Arya stepped closer, setting her bags on the ground. "I'm a healer. This sort of thing is my specialty."

Hamfast began to sputter. "Really, miss, there's no need - "

"If it wouldn't be too much trouble, we’d appreciate it very much, thank you miss," Daisy interrupted him, shooting a look.

Smiling at the woman, Arya knelt and began to examine the man's arm. He continued to sputter, albeit more quietly than before, but he was altogether silenced by the hobbit-woman stepping on his foot.

"Well, it's not broken," Arya began.

"See!" Hamfast turned to Daisy. "Like I said, right as rain!"

"But," Arya cut in, "you did manage to dislocate it. I'll have to maneuver the joint back into place and set it in a sling so it heals properly." She looked up at Daisy. "Is there someplace we can have him sit? I want him to be comfortable while I fix this."

A new voice cleared its throat, and Arya turned her head to see a new hobbit face peering down at them.

"Oh, Mr. Baggins!" Daisy stood up and grasped his hands. "There's been a dreadful accident - "

Arya’s mind went into overdrive. _BAGGINS BAGGINS BAGGINS BAGGINS BAGGINS -_

"Can you really help him?" The hobbit – _BAGGINS_ – asked, interrupting Arya’s inner mantra.

Her heart fluttered as she nodded. "Yes."

Nodding, Baggins turned to the little hobbit huddling behind him and ushered him forward. "It's quite all right, Samwise. Help your father into Bag End while your mother and I get Bill settled down and the cart put away."

Arya watched the small, golden-haired hobbit boy walk meekly towards Hamfast and help him to his feet. _SAMWISE?_ She heard her own blood roar through her veins. Pushing herself to her feet, she grabbed hold of her bags and followed the two men up into a relatively large hobbit hole next to the hillside she had travelled down. There was a well-kept garden in the front, filled with flowers she couldn't hope to identify, as well as a comfortable looking bench and several rather-ornate lawn chairs, and at the influx of sights Arya felt herself get hysterical again. _BAGGINS BAG END BAGGINS BAG END BAGGINS BAG END -_

"Miss, could you help me with the door?" A small voice asked.

She was brought back to the present at the sound and raced forward, opening the circular green door and ducking inside, allowing Hamfast and Sam to enter after her. Sam led his father immediately to the left, and Hamfast sat with a loud exhale on the couch in front of the fireplace.

Arya knelt to the ground, opened up her duffel, and began searching for something that would work like a sling.

Sam crept forward, looking at her curiously. "What are you doing?"

"Looking for something I need," she replied without thinking. Stopping, she turned to look at the well-worn backpack. Arya grabbed the pack, flipped it open, and found herself pulling out a large triangular cotton bandage and a handful of safety pins. "Aha!" She cried out loud, smiling at her find. "Magical backpack, indeed."

Ignoring Sam's look of confusion, Arya turned around and faced Hamfast. "Now, this is going to hurt, but it's important that we do this now instead of later."

It was at that moment that Daisy and Baggins stepped into the room. _BAGGINS BAGGINS BAGGINS -_ Hamfast groaned loudly on the couch, and Arya shook her head. _Not now, Arya. Focus._

"Samwise," Arya turned to the young boy. "Would you mind fetching some water for your father to drink?"

Nodding, the boy ran off further into the house.

Kneeling forward, Arya grabbed hold of Hamfast's arm and slowly began maneuvering the joint into position. Hamfast's groans became a painful hum as she worked.

"Now, just breathe deeply," she intoned. The older hobbit took a shaky breath, and Arya pushed the joint back into its socket.

Hamfast yelped loudly, causing the other two hobbits in the room to rush forward. "There," Arya knelt back. "How does that feel?"

Wincing, Hamfast tested his arm. His brow unfurrowed as he looked at her. "Sore, but much better. Many thanks, miss."

Arya smiled back at him. "Don't mention it. Now, I'm going to wrap your arm in a sling, and I don't want you to use it for the next week or so." She grabbed the cotton bandage and got to work. "We don't want you to damage it any further, now do we?"

"I - "

"Of course not," Daisy cut him off, sending a fierce glare in his direction.

"Good," Arya nodded. She finished securing the sling just as Sam came pattering back into the room with a glass of water. Hamfast leaned forward and took it from the young hobbit gratefully.

"Many thanks, my boy." The boy flushed at his father's words. Upon finishing the water, the old hobbit sighed and stood to his feet. "Come along Sam, we need to finish planting those petunias - "

"Absolutely not!" Daisy interjected, grabbing hold of Hamfast's uninjured arm. "You are coming home to rest right now!"

"Daisy, really - "

"Daisy, Gaffer, take as much time as you need," Baggins interjected. "In fact, take the whole week off. It's been far too long since I did some actual work around here. It will be good for my constitution."

"Thank you much, Mr. Baggins, you're very kind. Come along, Sam!" With that, Daisy turned on her heel and pulled a still protesting Hamfast Gamgee – also called Gaffer, apparently – out of Bag End, followed by a still flushed Sam. The door slammed shut behind them, and Arya found herself alone.

With a Baggins.

In BAG END.

Flushing, Arya stood and curtsied. _Nice and steady, Arya. Nice and steady_. "Apologies, Mister - "

"Baggins. Bilbo Baggins," the hobbit replied, bowing.

 _BILBO BAGGINS!_ Arya instantly felt dizzy, only able to nod at the hobbit in reply.

"Tea, Miss Callahan," Bilbo announced quickly, motioning for her to follow him deeper into the hill. "I will make tea, and you will tell me why a human has travelled to Hobbiton."

 

 

 


	3. Concerning Bilbo

Bilbo took a long sip of his tea and carefully studied the girl sitting across from him.

Really, girl was an incorrect term. Young lady would probably be more fitting. Now, he wasn't accustomed to the aging process of humans, but from the distinct lack of wrinkles and the healthy glow of her skin, he guessed she was somewhere around young Lillian Twofoot's age – speaking of which, he needed to find a wedding gift for her and Master Cotton as soon as possible and -

The young lady sighed into her tea, and Bilbo was brought back to his study of her. She had a mess of brown curls that would put Petunia Took's own tresses to shame, and her slight frame was modestly clad by a rather clean green dress.  She didn't look like someone who had spent months travelling by foot, and – according to his mother's stories at least – that was the easiest way to leave and return to the Shire.

"Where did you say you were from, again?" He finally asked.

Arya's smile was somewhat strained, but she replied nonetheless. "I didn’t, Master Baggins."

"Please, call me Bilbo," he cut back in, waving his hand. "I've tried to get the others to stop with this 'Master Baggins' nonsense, I won't have you starting too."

This time her smile was genuine. "Then please, call me Arya."

"Of course," he nodded slightly in affirmation. "You were saying - "

"Oh! Yes. I'm from the West."

Bilbo frowned. "Where the Elves go? That West?"

"Not exactly," she murmured slowly. "There are a few islands off the coast that are mostly inhabited by humans. We're close enough to shore to make it to land in a matter of days, but far enough away that you wouldn't see us if you didn't know to look. My – uh, my people don't come here often. They mostly keep to themselves. In my family, though - " her voice broke off suddenly, and she had to clear her throat before continuing. "Well, we're more known for making these sorts of trips."

"Is any of your family travelling with you?"

At this her eyes became unmistakably sad, and she glanced down at the table. "I'm afraid I am the last of my family. My grandfather passed away a few months ago. He was all I had for the longest time, and now that he's gone – well, I just felt very strongly that I was meant to be somewhere else."

Bilbo studied her silently for a while before reaching to refill her cup of tea. "I'm sorry to hear about your loss."

"Thank you," she replied softly, accepting the now generously-filled cup of tea.

"So why Hobbiton, then?" He asked once she had taken a sip of her tea and set the cup back down.

"Honestly, I didn't give my destination much thought once I left. I just started walking, and I sort of ended up here. Hobbiton's the first town I've come across."

"Really?" Bilbo asked, surprised. "Well, in that case, welcome to Middle-Earth, I suppose."

"Thank you." A large smile brightened up her features. "I'm very, very happy to be here."

Bilbo quieted down for a few moments, suddenly lost in thought. "How long are you planning on staying here?"

"I'm not quite sure," she admitted.

Shutting his eyes, Bilbo began to think, about Arya, about Master Gamgee, about this entire situation, and an idea started forming in his head. Maybe it was his Tookish side that was longing for a piece of adventure. Maybe it was his Baggins side that wouldn't allow him to turn anyone away in an inhospitable manner (with the exception of the Sackville-Bagginses, of course). Or maybe it was because Bag End was quiet, and that ever since he had inherited it a few years ago, he found his days mostly empty, and his interactions with other hobbits somewhat strained or overloaded with pretense. Whatever the reason was it didn't matter, because he opened his mouth and spoke all the same.

"You should stay here."

Arya choked on her tea, staring at him wide-eyed. "I'm sorry?"

"You should stay here, in Bag End. At least until you know where it is that you're going."

"Bilbo, I - "

"Besides, it will be useful to have you around. Hobbiton hasn't had an actual healer in several years, not since old Granny Proudfoot passed away. My cousin Petunia has been rather desperate to learn, and I'm sure if you offered to train her, she'd be more than willing to share her knowledge of botany with you. She can't heal a broken bone, but she can make sure you don't get poisoned, and honestly, with those Tooks, that something you certainly need to learn."

Arya began to smile. "If you're sure - "

"Of course, I'm sure! I have more than enough room here, and it wouldn't do to have you walking around without a chaperone, now would it? Of course, there aren't many human men that wander around Hobbiton, but I am certain your grandfather would wish for you to be supervised, and I will do so, as long as you remain in my presence.

"Well, actually - "

"And it will be nice to have some company, I think."

Arya ceased replying. Bilbo looked up at her, somewhat more anxious than he really should be, given the circumstances, and found Arya positively beaming at him. "Thank you, Bilbo. I would love to."

Bilbo felt something inside him relax, and he nodded. "Quite right. Now, let's get you settled."

\--

After seeing the utter lack of items Arya had packed with her, Bilbo had insisted they make their way into the town square and do some shopping. "Besides," he had told her, "the sooner you make yourself known to the other hobbits, the more comfortable they will be with your presence."

 _Right. Right. You can do this._ Arya felt her nerves flutter back to life as she walked alongside Bilbo towards the center of Hobbiton. "I would hate to cause any sort of inconvenience," she said.

"Nonsense!" He'd replied firmly. "It's good for us hobbits. We get too used to things. Change is good for us. As much as we may not like it at first," he finished with a mutter.

A warm feeling blossomed in Arya’s chest. "Well, you have my thanks, Bilbo."

"Of course, of course." Leading her around the corner, they came to a stop in the middle of the square. Several tents were set up, and a large number of hobbits of all shapes and sizes weaved their way amongst the tables, haggling with vendors, drinking out of rather large pint glasses, and laughing as they wandered.

Clearing his throat, Bilbo motioned for Arya to follow him, and the two made their way into the square. As they walked through, the sound of talking fell until the square was completely silent.

Bilbo ignored them, walking towards a group of rather well-dressed hobbits who were observing the scene with a great deal of interest. Coming to a stop in front of the men, he motioned for Arya to join him at his side. "Mayor Whitfoot, may I introduce Arya Callahan."

Arya curtsied on instinct, which the eldest of the group, presumably the mayor, returned with a bow. "Mayor Whitfoot, at your service. What brings a human to the Shire?"

"She is a healer, travelling through Middle-Earth," Bilbo answered for her. Leaning forward, he beckoned to the Mayor and began to whisper loudly. "Her grandfather passed away a short while ago. She's taken up the family business, so to speak."

The Mayor nodded, ignoring the whispers that began to spread around them. "Well," he cleared his throat, speaking loudly again, "it will be good to have a healer amongst us. Will you be staying long?"

"However long it takes until new healers have been trained here," Bilbo replied, looking at Arya with a nod. Taking his cue, she smiled at the neighbor and nodded in reply.

"Good, good! Will you need a place to stay?"

"She will be staying with me, at Bag End." The crowd fell silent at this, and Arya could sense the stares on her back. Even Bilbo seemed slightly affected by this silence, and his voice shook a bit when he spoke up again. "I will be serving as her chaperone while she is here."

The crowd began to speak again, and Bilbo visibly relaxed. The Mayor nodded appraisingly at Bilbo. "Quite right, Master Baggins. Just like your father. You Bagginses are truly the most respectable and responsible of hobbits." Turning to Arya, the Mayor addressed her. "Should you need anything, Miss Callahan, please do not hesitate to ask."

 _Huh. That wasn’t so bad._ "Thank you," Arya finally spoke. Curtsying again, Arya allowed herself to be led away by Bilbo towards a grouping of stalls near the back of the market.

"Sorry about that," Bilbo finally said as the crowd grew quieter. "Mayor Whitfoot has always tended to be a bit more old-fashioned. Proper introductions are very important to the old guard, you might say."

"No, thank you," Arya replied honestly. "I don't know what I would have done otherwise."

Smiling slightly, Bilbo came to a stop in front of a stall covered with fabrics. "Miss Grubb?"

An older-looking hobbittess peered out from behind a thick pair of spectacles. "Mister Baggins! How good it is to see you!"

Bilbo smiled good-naturedly at the woman. "Thank you. Miss Druella Grubb, meet Ms. Arya Callahan."

Arya curtsied – again – and smiled at the woman, who blinked at her for a few moments before turning to look at Bilbo. "Finally found yourself a wife, Mister Baggins?"

Bilbo began to sputter while Arya tried her best to cover up her laugh with a cough. "No, no, that's not quite it. She's a travelling healer, and I'm serving as a chaperone."

"Ahh, I see. Well, if you change your mind, I expect to be the one to make your wedding-clothes."

Sighing, Bilbo shook his head. "Yes, Miss Grubb."

"Now, child, let me look at you." Druella turned to face Arya and studied her appraisingly. "What sorts of things will you be needing?"

 _Okay, think period-appropriate clothing. You can do this._ "Dresses – some for working, and some for dinner," Arya turned to face Bilbo. He nodded approvingly at her. "A few blouses and skirts, a shawl for the colder months, a hair scarf if you have one. Oh!" Arya turned to face Druella. "Could you make me a pair of trousers?"

Bilbo began to choke suddenly. Druella, on the other hand, was completely nonplussed by her request. "Trousers? For what purpose?"

"Working. It's easier to gather supplies and heal wounds if I don't have to worry about a skirt getting in the way."

Druella hummed to herself for a minute before squinting at Arya. "A strange request, to be sure, but a sensible one for your line of work, I suppose." Druella inclined her head towards Bilbo. "I'll have it for you the week after next."

Nodding, Bilbo thanked Druella, handed over a bag of gold, and led Arya away before she could speak further.

The afternoon was a whirlwind once they left that stall. Arya suddenly found herself being introduced to nearly every hobbit in Hobbiton. Somehow, word of how she "saved the Old Gaffer's life" had spread by the time she and Bilbo had finished elevensies, and she was suddenly bombarded with all sorts of questions regarding aches, pains, strange rashes, and even suspected poisonings. Surprisingly, Arya bore it much better than Bilbo, who finally told the crowd that they would have to wait until the following day to speak with her, and that she would not be available outside of normal working hours except in the case of an emergency, and no, stubbing your toe was not an emergency.

Most of the names flew by her, and Arya knew she wouldn't remember their faces for the life of her. However, she did make the acquaintance of a begrudging Lobelia Sackville-Baggins and her husband Otho, and she tried her best to commit their faces to memory. She also met an enthusiastic Petunia Took, who was over the moon at the idea of learning healing, and would be absolutely delighted to share her botany knowledge with her, and if she could come over to tea at her earliest convenience, she just had to meet the rest of the Took family, as well as all five of Petunia's children, and could perhaps her eldest also listen in on the lessons? Arya had agreed to everything, and by the time Bilbo and Arya had returned to Bag End, she was completely exhausted.

She slumped onto the couch in the sitting room next to Bilbo. "I never knew socializing could be that exhausting."

Bilbo chuckled. "And that was most of the hobbits avoiding you."

\--

Arya had retired to her room for a mid-afternoon nap. Well, it was actually originally Belladonna Took's old tea room, which Bilbo kindly converted into a bedroom for Arya. She'd fallen asleep almost as soon as her head hit the pillow - it had been a rather insane ten hours, after all - only waking when Bilbo knocked on her door, letting her know it was time for dinner.

Dinner passed by in a blur of delicious foods and breads, and before Arya knew it, she was sitting outside the front of Bag End with Bilbo Baggins, him smoking his pipe, her drinking another cup of tea.

"How long have you lived here in Bag End?" Arya asked quietly, so not as to disturb the crickets who chirped almost in time with the setting sun.

"All my life," Bilbo puffed out lazily. "There's always been a Baggins in Bag End, and there always will be."

"So you've never travelled beyond the Shire then?"

"No, no, no, never." He hummed to himself for a moment before smiling. "My mother did though. Before she became a Baggins, of course. The Tooks are known for being a bit more adventurous than most other hobbits, but Bagginses are nothing but respectable."

The two fell quiet again, Bilbo staring off into the sunset. Arya, on the other hand, was consciously trying to slow down her beating heart, which seemed to be rushing towards a conclusion that made her feel lightheaded.

"However, I've always wondered," Bilbo spoke again. He fell silent, lost in thought. Arya did not interrupt him, instead focusing on the single thought that had become crystal clear.

_Well then, at least I know why I'm here._


	4. Concerning Wizards, and More Specifically, One Particular Wizard

Bilbo wasn't quite sure how it had happened. One moment he was welcoming Arya into Bag End, and in the blink of an eye five months went by. It felt like no time at all since before her arrival, and at the same time, it felt like a lifetime ago that Bag End was cold and empty and just him.

Hobbiton, after an initial period of mistrust, had soon taken to Arya like a duck to water, and most days Bilbo felt that she was better-liked than even he amongst the hobbits (not that that was much of an accomplishment, as many still took him to be a strange old bachelor, but he was proud nonetheless). She was immensely polite and obliging – which, being a healer, was probably part of the job description – and rarely lost her temper. In fact, there had been only one incident since Arya had arrived that had been truly upsetting, and that had been when Arya had caught Lobelia trying to sell some of Granny Baggin's silverware to Falco Bolger at Fanny Hogg's forty-fifth birthday party. She and Lobelia had gotten into a yelling match the likes of which Bilbo hadn't seen since his mother was alive, which resulted in Arya dumping a pint of Old Gaffer's brew on top of Lobelia's head as she spouted off some turn of phrase that Bilbo didn't understand but could guess was less than polite. Arya had been horribly embarrassed afterwards, and even went so far as to apologize to Fanny at her party for her overbearing "Irish temper" getting the best of her – whatever that was. Fanny, however, loved a good scandal, and disliked Lobelia almost as much as Bilbo did, and the incident was forgotten almost as suddenly as it had happened. Well, amongst everyone except Lobelia. However, Lobelia had made it a point to stay away from Bag End since then, and Bilbo had spent a blissful three months content in the knowledge that his grandmother's silverware wasn't in danger of Lobelia's sticky fingers for the immediate future.

Pairing Arya up with Petunia had also been a resounding success. Between the two of them, they had managed to safely guide the farmers through the roughest of seasons, and there was no injury left untreated. In fact, the pair had healed so efficiently that the Mayor had tried to pay Arya for her services. Tried, and failed. She didn't accept money from any of the hobbits she helped, saying that she didn't need their hard-earned coins, that she was more than comfortable with what she had, and if anything, that they should donate the money to build a schoolhouse for the children so they could learn whatever sort of trade they desired. Some hobbits liked the idea more than others, but it wasn't outright rejected, and Bilbo actually felt quite hopeful that someday Hobbiton would, in fact, have a school.

The changes to Arya were perhaps the most surprising. As time grew on, Bilbo found her smiling more and more, until it was incredibly uncommon to see her frown at all. Her skin grew a few shades darker from working with the farmers and digging herbs in the sun, her laugh became just a bit louder, and her confidence seemed to increase with every successful patient she acquired. In fact, she'd been able to talk an overwrought yet protesting Farmer Cotton into submission, and that feat itself was the only thing Hobbiton could talk about for two weeks.

And, if Bilbo was being honest, it was quite nice to have a companion. Whenever Arya wasn't either training Petunia or helping with the latest medical emergency, she mostly stayed around Bag End, watching Old Gaffer work and asking him questions about the garden, studying Sindarin with Bilbo in his library, and working as assistant chef in the kitchen. He'd taught her every dish he'd known, and she taught him how to make this marvelous dessert called a "cookie", which was still a rather strange word, but was delicious enough that questioning it further wasn't worth it. And, at the end of every day, the two would sit on the bench outside Bag End and exchange stories of their families, stories they'd read, stories they'd heard in town that day. Occasionally, she’d even sing a song or two, and he’d spend the evening listening to her quietly serenade Hobbiton with whatever song came into her mind. Bilbo found that those nights were his favorites. In his mind, Arya was seeming less and less like a stranger using one of his spare rooms; in fact, Arya Callahan felt like family, and realizing that brought an era of peace upon Bilbo Baggins that he hadn't realized he'd been missing all those years since the death of his parents.

Of course, peace for Bilbo Baggins was never a guarantee, because on a bright and cheery Highday in Autumn, a tall, grey-haired man in a funny hat appeared, disrupting Bilbo's morning routine and – in some way which he knew deep, deep down but couldn't actually say – his future plans.

"Good morning," Bilbo greeted the stranger as he exhaled a ring of smoke.

“What do you mean? Do you mean to wish me a good morning, or do you mean that it is a good morning whether I want it or not? Or, perhaps you mean to say that you feel good on this particular morning. Or are you simply stating that this is a morning to be good on?”

Bilbo felt his insides squeeze up at the look the man was giving him and he shrugged. "All of them at once, I suppose?"

The man grumbled, and Bilbo sighed exasperatedly. "I'm sorry, can I help you?"

“That remains to be seen. I’m looking for someone to share in an adventure.”

"An adventure? Now, I don’t imagine anyone west of Bree would have much interest in adventures. Nasty, disturbing, uncomfortable things. Make you late for dinner." Bilbo became suddenly uncomfortable at the look in his eye, and stood up, about to make his way back towards his door, when the stranger interrupted him.

"You’ve changed, and not entirely for the better, Bilbo Baggins."

"I’m sorry, do I know you?"

"Well, you know my name, although you don’t remember I belong to it. I’m Gandalf!"

Bilbo's jaw dropped, and for once in his life he was completely unaware of it. "Gandalf...not Gandalf, the wandering Wizard, who made such excellent fireworks! Old Took used to have them on Midsummer’s Eve. I had no idea you were still in business!"

Gandalf's wrinkles dissolved into a smile. "Yes, well, I suppose you could say that.

"Well, I’m pleased to find you remember something about me, even if it’s only my fireworks," Gandalf continued on. "It's decided, then. It will be very good for you, and most amusing for me. I shall inform the others."

Bilbo began to stammer, backing away from the wizard who suddenly had a dangerous twinkle in his eye. "Inform the who? What? No. No. No! Wait. We do not want any adventures here, thank you. Not today, not ever. I suggest you try over the Hill or across the Water." Running up to his door, Bilbo opened it, and shut it with a slam. Then, peeking his nose out, he muttered another "Good morning" and shut the door firmly behind him.

Gandalf watched in amusement as the hobbit disappeared into Bag End. Chuckling to himself, he made his way to the door, and whispering an incantation, scratched out a symbol on the door. Whistling, he turned from the door and made his way back onto the path leading out of Hobbiton.

What he didn't notice was the pair of human eyes that watched him scratch a rune onto Bilbo's freshly painted door.

\--

Arya had just finished helping the town midwife deliver Fanny Grubb's eighth child and was heading back to Bag End for a well-deserved cup of tea when she caught sight of a rather tall figured dressed in gray standing outside of Bag End. _Oh God, oh God, oh God, it’s happening!_

Gasping, Arya dove behind the nearest hedge, which just happened to be right outside of the Gamgee's house. Sam was the only one outside at the moment and watched her curiously. "Miss Arya? What is it you're doing?"

"Watching," Arya whispered.

"Watching what?" Now curious, Sam made his way over from his little trowel and tried to peek out from behind Arya's legs. Arya, however, caught hold of him, preventing him from peeking his head out onto the path.

"It's nothing, Sam. Would you mind getting your mother for me?"

Nodding, but looking at her skeptically, Sam made his way into his burrow. Arya turned back just in time to see Gandalf now standing in front of a shut green door and carving something onto the wood.

_It’s happening! IT’S HAPPENING!_

Gandalf had just turned the corner out of Bag End when Sam reappeared with Daisy Gamgee. "Are you all right, miss?"

Startled, Arya stood up and grinned sheepishly at Daisy. "Yes, sorry. I was just wondering – do you happen to know where I can get a bunch of pies by this evening?"

Daisy's eyebrows furrowed. "What for? Is there a party?"

"Of sorts?" Arya replied hesitantly. "There's a group of people passing through as they head north, and Bilbo offered to host them for dinner." _Well, sort of._

"Ahh, yes, the kindness of the Bagginses. They're good folk, miss," Daisy nodded thoughtfully. Then, stretching out her hand, she grabbed hold of Arya's and led her towards Hilda Brandybuck's burrow. "I think we can put something together in time."

Daisy began to chatter on, something about different pie recipes, and won't it be a nice surprise for Mister Baggins, but Arya's thoughts were all focused on the guests who would be arriving soon, and who would change Bilbo's fate – and now her own – forever.


	5. Concerning Dwarves

Arya had sent word via Samwise Gamgee that she would be late for dinner, so Bilbo had just placed his freshly made loaf of bread in the oven when there was a knock on the door.

"Oh! Oh goodness, Arya dear, I'm terribly sorry about that, I completely forgot that I had locked the - " Bilbo opened the front door and found himself nose to chest with a (relatively) tall, bald and muscular dwarf.

The dwarf bowed, although his smile was more of a grimace. "Dwalin, at your service."

Bilbo gaped at him for a few moments before remembering his manners. "Right, yes, of course. Bilbo Baggins at yours."

Grunting, Dwalin stepped past him and strode into Bag End, dirty boots on and everything.

"Excuse me, but do you mind - "

"Where's the food?"

Bilbo paused mid-sentence. "I'm sorry?"

"The food? He said there'd be a feast here."

"I've just started supper, but there must be some mistake - "

The dwarf – Dwalin – ignored him and made his way towards the pantry as if on instinct.

Bilbo was about to follow after him in protest when there was a second knock at his door. Whirling around, Bilbo saw another dwarf standing there. This one was much shorter than the last, with a long white beard.

"Balin, at your service." The dwarf stepped into Bag End and shut the door behind him all at once.

He'd barely replied with "Bilbo Baggins, at yours" when Dwalin walked back into the room. Balin cried loudly at the sight, and the two dwarves – who apparently were brothers – greeted each other in some language Bilbo didn't recognize. The taller dwarf took the shorter by the arm, and the two disappeared back towards the pantry again.

Bilbo was really starting to feel panicked now. Another knock on his door sounded. _Please be Arya, please be Arya,_ he thought over and over as he opened the door into the now cool evening.

"Fili - "

"and Kili - "

"at your service!" The two young dwarves finished in unison.

"Nope, you can't come in, you've got the wrong house." Bilbo tried to shove the door shut, but to no avail.

"What?" The dark-haired one answered. "Has it been cancelled?"

"No one told us!" The blonde murmured, scrutinizing Bilbo under his gaze.

Bilbo frowned. "What? No, nothing's been cancelled - "

"Excellent!" The dark hair dwarf pushed the door open, knocking Bilbo onto the ground. The two dwarves disarmed themselves – meaning Bilbo suddenly found himself covered in a pile of swords and knives – and disappeared into Bag End like the two that came before.

Forcing the door shut, Bilbo kicked the swords into the corner, absolutely put out. In fact, he was working up a marvelous tirade, when there was a knock on the door again.

"No, that is quite enough, we have more than enough dwarves here in Bag End, thank you very much!" Opening the door anyways – curse his Baggins' streak of politeness – he squealed and jumped back just in time to prevent himself being flattened by seven dwarves and a rather all-too-pleased Gandalf.

There was a loud commotion all of the sudden as the dwarves who had just arrived greeted the other four, and soon all eleven dwarves were stampeding back towards the pantry.

"Are you having a pleasant evening, Bilbo?" Gandalf asked cordially.

Bilbo ignored him and raced towards the back of Bag End, trying to regain some sense of order. But by the time he made it to the pantry and say just how at home the dwarves were, taking his stores of food and totally manning the kitchen, he knew it was a lost cause.

He tried in vain to get one of them to listen and explain what was going on, but the late arrival of a dwarf by the name of Thorin – whom Gandalf had whispered to Bilbo was a most important dwarf – made everything positively chaotic. Before he knew it, the dwarves had finished their feast, and Bilbo was trying – once again in vain – to squirrel some potatoes away for himself and Arya.

The largest dwarf sitting at the table – Bombur, one of the other dwarves supplied – managed to steal the plate away from him. Bilbo stomped away from the table in a fury. "Bebother and confusticate all these dwarves!"

"My dear Bilbo," Gandalf asked, speaking out of nowhere, "whatever is the matter?"

"These – these dwarves!"

"Ahh, yes. Don't worry, you will get used to them."

"I don’t want to get used to them. The state of my kitchen! There’s mud trod into the carpet, they’ve pillaged the pantry and stolen all my supper. I’m not even going to tell you what they’ve done in the bathroom; they’ve all but destroyed the plumbing. I don’t understand what they’re doing in my house!"

"Excuse me." Bilbo whirled around and found himself facing a rather diminutive looking dwarf. "I'm sorry, but what should I do with my plate?"

"Here, give it to me Ori," Fili said. Grabbing the plate out of Ori's hand, he threw it down the hallway, where it was caught and thrown by the other dwarf that had arrived with him, Kili.

"Excuse me, that’s my mother’s West Farthing crockery, it’s over a hundred years old!" Bilbo hollered, stomping towards Kili. At the sound of tapping silverware, he stopped and turned his glare upon the remainder of the dwarves who were sitting at the table, all of which – with the exception of Balin and Thorin – were stamping their feet and tapping the table with their forks and knives.

"Can you not do that? You'll blunt them!"

The dwarves began to laugh uproariously. "Did you hear that lads?" One of them said. "He said we'll blunt the knives!"

And then, to make a bad night even worse, the dwarves began to sing.

_“Blunt the knives, bend the forks_

_Smash the bottles and burn the corks_

_Chip the glasses and crack the plates_

_That’s what Bilbo Baggins hates!_

_Cut the cloth and tread on the fat_

_Leave the bones on the bedroom mat_

_Pour the milk on the pantry floor_

_Splash the wine on every door_

_Dump the crocks in a boiling bowl_

_Pound them up with a thumping pole_

_When you’ve finished, if any are whole_

_Send them down the hall to roll_

_That’s what Bilbo Baggins hates!_

The dwarves finished their song with hearty laughs. Even the solemn leader, whom Gandalf introduced to Bilbo as Thorin Oakenshield, had a small smile upon his face.

A sudden knock on the door silenced the dwarves. Even Gandalf, who up until this point had looked entirely unaffected by anything happening around him, turned to glance at the door, his eyebrows furrowed.

"Were you expecting anyone else?" Gandalf addressed the dwarf named Thorin quietly.

Thorin shook his head. "No. Were you?" When Gandalf shook his head, Thorin turned to look at the rest of the table. "Were any of you?"

Bilbo crossed his arms and leaned against the china hutch in his living room. "I was."

For the first time since they arrived, the dwarves and Gandalf all turned and stared at him, giving him their undivided attention. "You?" The dwarf asked incredulously, his piercing blue eyes narrowing in on the hobbit.

Gandalf's face became contemplative. "Yes, Bilbo Baggins, who is it that you're expecting?"

The sound of the door swinging open caught everyone's attention, and they all turned to face near the front of the house. It looked like both Thorin and Gandalf were opening their mouths to say something, to warn the visitor away, but whatever they were going to say died in their mouths the minute Arya began to speak.

\--

_Breathe, Arya. You can do this. It’s just Bilbo and Gandalf and the thirteen dwarves that you’ve read about and loved practically your entire life and all you have to do is convince them to let you go on this quest to Erebor with them. No pressure._

“Mis Callahan? Are we going inside now?”

Snapping back into the present, Arya turned to smile at Sam. “Yes, of course. I’m sorry for keeping you waiting, Sam.”

Forcing herself to take a final deep breath, Arya opened the door to Bag End and swept inside, Sam and his wagon of pies following after her.

"You can leave them here Sam. Thanks for your help!" With a quick nod, the young fauntling scampered off back towards his own home and the promise of his own Brandyberry pie.

"Bilbo! I'm sorry I'm late!" She called. _One foot in front of the other, Arya. You can do this._ Taking another breath, she grabbed hold of the wagon and made her way back towards the dining room. "I saw that we had company when I was walking back from Fanny's, and so Daisy and I threw together some pies for dessert - "

She rounded the corner and froze in spite of herself. _THEY’RE HERE THEY’RE REAL THEY’RE HERE THEY’RE REAL -_

"It's quite all right, Arya, don't mention it," Bilbo sighed, making his way over to her. "I'm afraid I wasn't able to save any dinner for you, I wasn't expecting this much company this evening.”

Arya was going to answer right away, really, she was, but she was currently caught in the sapphire-blue gaze of the most majestic-looking man she'd ever seen. The more he looked at her, first in surprise and then in distrust, the faster her heart beat.

"No worries,” she forced out quickly, eyes still locked on the blue-eyed dwarf. “I had a pre-supper dinner with the Gamgees.”

The handsome dwarf was actively frowning at her now. Clearing her throat, Arya turned to look at the rest of the group and cleared his throat. "Would you gentlemen like some pie?"

They were all still openly gaping at her, even the tall man in grey – _GANDALF!_

"That would be very kind, miss, thank you." A short white-haired dwarf who was sitting opposite the blue-eyed dwarf bowed his head.

“Great!” Arya turned back to Bilbo. “Do we have any clean plates left? I can go wash them otherwise - “

“They just did,” Bilbo cut in, sighing in an exasperated manner. “You cut the pies, I’ll serve them.”

\--

Cutting all of the pies was actually quite the production, and by the time Arya and Bilbo had finished serving the slices up, the dwarves were back to their conversation, seemingly having forgotten about the human woman in their midst. Gandalf, however, continued to watch Arya as she moved back and forth, an unreadable expression on his face.

“Really? You’ve never met them at all?” She whispered to Bilbo in faux surprise as they stuck the rest of the pies in the icebox.

“Never before in my life!”

“Why are they here then?”

“I haven’t gotten any answers, and believe me, I’ve tried,” he fretted, slamming the door to the icebox shut with a bang.

 _Nice and easy, Arya. Nice and easy. “_ Well,” she began in a nonchalant tone, “there’s only one way we’ll get any sort of answers.”

“What’s that?”

Arya handed Bilbo a slice of pie with a small smile. “We join them.”

\--

“What news from the meeting in Ered Luin? Did they all come?”

“Aye. Envoys from all seven kingdoms.”

Bilbo’s pie was still untouched. He was openly staring at the dwarves from their spot next to the hearth, brow furrowed in confusion. “Seven kingdoms? I didn’t know the dwarves had seven kingdoms!” He whispered in surprise to Arya.

Arya hummed, stuffing the last bite of pie in her face. For some odd reason, all of this was making her incredibly hungry, and she’d attacked her slice with vigor. “Fascinating.” Setting down her empty plate, she found herself looking at Bilbo’s slice. “Are you gonna eat that?”

Bilbo silently handed her the plate, his eyes remaining locked on the dwarves in front of them.

“What do the dwarves of the Iron Hills say? Is Dain with us?”

“They will not come.”

The dwarves began speaking in disappointed murmurs. Arya’s eyes flickered across towards the dwarf at the head of the table – _THORIN OAKENSHIELD! -_ who seemed to radiate tension as his companions whispered amongst themselves.

“They say this quest is ours, and ours alone.”

“You're going on a quest?" Bilbo spoke up, curiosity winning out over his anxiety.

Arya watched as Thorin stiffened and shot the large, tattooed dwarf sitting next to him a look of exasperation.

“Come, Bilbo,” Gandalf finally spoke, silencing the murmurs of the dwarves. “Bring some light. I have something to show you. Thorin, if you will make way for our host,” Gandalf addressed the blue-eyed dwarf next to him.

Grabbing one of the candles sitting on top of the hearth, Bilbo made his way over to Gandalf who, upon taking and setting the candle upon the table, brought out a map from the depths of his clothing. “Far to the East, over ranges and rivers, beyond woodlands and wastelands, lies a single solitary peak.”

“The Lonely Mountain,” Bilbo read in a soft murmur.

Arya felt chills run up and down her spine. Biting down on the urge to start squealing or reciting Gandalf’s speech from the novel word-for-word, she shoved a rather large bite of Bilbo’s slice into her mouth.

“Aye,” a red-headed dwarf spoke up. “Oin has read the portents, and the portents say it is time.”

“Ravens have been seen flying back to the mountain as it was foretold,” a second continued, this one with finely braided gray hair. “When the birds of yore return to Erebor, the reign of the beast will end.”

Bilbo looked confused. “Uh, What beast?”

The one in the yellow hat leaned towards Bilbo, a mischievous look in his eyes. “Well that would be a reference to Smaug the Terrible, chiefest and greatest calamity of our age. Airborne fire-breather, teeth like razors, claws like meathooks, extremely fond of precious metals--”

“Yes, I know what a dragon is.”

“I’m not afraid! I’ll give him a taste of the Dwarfish iron right up his jacksie!” A dwarf in a knitted sweater yelled, causing the rest to burst out into loud cheers.

“Oh, sit down!” The grey-haired one yelled again, pulling the knitted dwarf back down into his seat.

“The task would be difficult enough with an army behind us,” the short, white-haired dwarf spoke up as the cheers died down. “We number just thirteen, and not thirteen of the best, nor brightest.”

“Oi!”

“Who are ye calling dim?”

“We may be few in number, but we’re fighters, all of us, to the last dwarf!” The dark-haired dwarf with practically no beard yelled, standing up.

“Besides,” the blonde to his left smirked, “we have a wizard in our company. Gandalf will have killed hundreds of dragons in his time.”

“How many then, laddie?”

“A great number I’m sure!”

“At least five thousand - “

“ - no, hundreds of thousands!”

“Well, how many dragons have you killed? Go on, give us a number!”

“ **Shazara!** ” Thorin hollered, jumping to his feet and slamming his fists on the table. “If we have read these signs, do you not think others will have read them too? Rumors have begun to spread. The dragon Smaug has not been seen for 60 years. Eyes look east to the Mountain, assessing, wondering, weighing the risk. Perhaps the vast wealth of our people now lies unprotected. Do we sit back while others claim what is rightfully ours? Or do we seize this chance to take back Erebor?”

The dwarves jumped to their feet, cheering loudly. Thorin raised his fist in the air triumphantly and began chanting, a large grin on his face. “ **Du Bekâr! Du Bekâr!** ”

“You forget!” The white-haired dwarf hollered again, motioning for the dwarves to settle themselves down. “The front gate is sealed. There is no way into the mountain.”

“That, my dear Balin, is not entirely true.” Gandalf reached into the depths of his robes and pulled out a small key, placing it on the table.

Thorin stared at the key in wonder. “How came you by this?”

“It was given to me by your father, by Thrain, for safekeeping,” he replied, sliding the key in Thorin’s direction. “It is yours now.”

The dwarves were silent for a few moments, watching as Thorin picked up the key and held it to the light. Arya’s eyes caught sight of fast movement, and she looked over to see the short-bearded dwarf practically hopping with excitement.

“If there is a key,” the youngest looking dwarf spoke happily, “then there must be a door!”

 _Oh. My. God_. Arya couldn’t stop herself from snorting very, very loudly. The heads in the room whirled around to face her, and she found herself – once again – being glared at by Thorin Oakenshield.

“Well, if we can find it,” Gandalf spoke again, trying to draw the dwarves’ attention back to the issue at hand. “Dwarf doors are invisible when closed. The answer lies hidden somewhere in this map and I do not have the skill to find it. But there are others in Middle-earth who can. The task I have in mind will require a great deal of stealth, and no small amount of courage. But, if we are careful and clever, I believe that it can be done.”

“Aye, which is why we need a burglar,” Thorin spoke, eyes leaving Arya’s and dropping back onto the map in front of him.

“Hm, a good one, too. An expert, I’d imagine,” Bilbo nodded, his eyes still trained on the map.

Arya felt her palms start to sweat. Setting Bilbo’s now-empty plate on top of her own, she stood up and slowly walked around the dining room table.

“And are you?”

“Am I what?”

“You hear that? He said he’s an expert!”

“M--Me?” Bilbo flushed, stammering as the dwarves all turned to stare at him. “No, no, no, no, no. I’m -”

“I’m not so sure, Gandalf. He’s hardly burglar material.”

“Aye, the wild is no place for gentlefolk who can neither fight nor fend for themselves,” the large, tattooed dwarf spoke, turning to send a glare in Bilbo’s direction.

“Enough!” Gandalf stood, his volume causing Arya to jump in place as she continued to make her way towards Bilbo. “If I say Bilbo Baggins is a burglar, then a burglar he is!

“Hobbits are remarkably light on their feet. In fact, they can pass unseen by most if they choose. And while the dragon is accustomed to the smell of dwarf, the scent of hobbit is all but unknown to him, which gives us a distinct advantage. You asked me to find the fourteenth member of this company, and I have chosen Mr. Baggins. There’s a lot more to him than appearances suggest, and he’s got a great deal more to offer than any of you know, including himself.” Gandalf turned to glare at Thorin who, after maintaining eye contact for a few moments, sighed, and motioned for Balin to hand over the contract to Bilbo.

“Excellent,” Balin handed the scroll to Bilbo.

“What’s this?”

“It’s just the usual summary of out-of-pocket expenses, time required, remuneration, funeral arrangements, so forth.”

Bilbo’s mouth flopped open. “Uh - “

“Lovely, thank you,” Arya grabbed hold of Bilbo’s arm and moved them towards the sitting room. “If you’ll excuse us, this will only take a few moments.”

Now Balin looked startled, nodding in Arya’s direction. “Of course, miss - “

With an obliging smile, Arya yanked Bilbo down the hall and into the sitting room. Setting him down on his favorite armchair, she placed his feet on a stool, grabbed a pitcher of water, and sat next to him. He just blinked at her before looking down at the parchment in his lap.

“Well?” She nudged him. “What are you waiting for?”

“Right, right,” Bilbo nodded, a frazzled look in his eyes. He unwound the large scroll and began to read. “Terms: Cash on delivery, up to but not exceeding one fourteenth of total profit, if any. Seems fair. Eh, Present company shall not be liable for injuries inflicted by or sustained as a consequence thereof including but not limited to lacerations ... evisceration … incineration?”

Arya grabbed hold of Bilbo’s shoulders, forcing them to stay in place. “Breathe, Bilbo, breathe. Nice and easy. In, out, in, out.” He nodded, following her orders – albeit faster than she would have liked – and a few minutes later, the panic attack had passed.

“Here, drink,” she said, holding the pitcher towards Bilbo. He wrenched it out of her hands, downing all of its contents in one long series of gulps.

“How are you doing?” She asked, watching as he dropped the pitcher on the ground with a sigh.

“Better. Thank you,” he said, crinkling the contract in his hands. “Can you believe this? Me, a quest? A dragon? A burglar? Of all the mad things -”

“I think you should do it.”

Bilbo gaped, turning to look at her. “Excuse me?” He squeaked.

“You’ve said it yourself,” she said, shrugging her shoulders. It was all she could do to prevent herself from vibrating in excitement. “This is a chance to know what it’s like out there, to not wonder any more. Besides, change is good for the soul, no matter how hard it is.”

“Really? And who said that?”

Arya grinned. “You did. On my first day in Hobbiton.”

Flushing, Bilbo’s eyes dropped back down onto the contract. “Yes, I suppose I did.”

She watched him in silence for a moment. _Here’s your moment, Arya. You can do this._

 _“_ I’ll go with you.”

“What?” Bilbo asked, a frown on his face.

“I’ll go with you,” she repeated, leaning in towards him with a comforting smile. “On the quest.”

“What - why?”

“Are you kidding? Did you hear them in there? They need all the help they can get. Hobbiton would get on quite well without me now, especially since the harvest is over. And most importantly, you’re my friend. You didn’t abandon me in my moment of need, and I won’t abandon you in yours.”

Sighing, Bilbo reached over and squeezed Arya’s hand. “I appreciate the thought, my dear, but my conscience wouldn’t allow it. To lead you into that sort of danger?”

“Bilbo, I’m a woman in a man’s world. I’m always in some sort of danger.”

“It's not the same - “

“With Gandalf on our side? I’m safer with him than without.”

“Well, they’d never agree to it,” he finally murmured.

Arya’s eyes flickered towards the dining room, a small smile on her face. “I wouldn’t be so sure about that, if I were you.”

\--

“Ahh, Bilbo Baggins, I see you’ve returned with the contract,” Gandalf announced happily as Bilbo trotted back into the dining room. “You’ve made your decision, I presume?”

Bilbo nodded stiffly, handing the contract to Balin. “I will do it.”

The dwarves broke into excited whispers. Dwalin, for his part, looked stunned, and his eyes followed Bilbo’s movements as he stepped closer to the table.

“Excellent, excellent!” Balin clapped his hands together, a large smile on his face. “Now, let me just find a quill for you to sign it with, and we’ll be all set.”

“You see?” Gandalf said, turning to beam at Thorin. “I told you I would find you a burglar, and I have. Your company is now fourteen.”

“Yes, well - “

“Fifteen,” a new voice spoke.

Thorin’s head whipped around as he took in the human girl standing in front of him, hands on her hips and a smirk on her lips.

“No - ”

“ - can’t be serious - “

“ - farce of a quest - “

“ - you jest about this?” Dwalin roared, jumping up.

The girl rolled her eyes and stepped past Thorin, coming to a stop in front of Balin – and the still open contract. “Master Balin, I’m an experienced healer, and your best shot of making it to Erebor should one of your companions fall ill or get injured along the way. I’m capable of basic first aid, surgical procedures, and long-term post-trauma care. And, most importantly, I will not let Bilbo go on this journey without me.”

The corners of Balin’s mouth curved up in a smile. “And why would that be, miss?”

“Because that is what friends do, Master Dwarf. They help you through the easy times, and the difficult ones as well.” She straightened her shoulders. “I have no interest in gold or treasure. I only ask for what I am due for my services upon reclaiming the Lonely Mountain.”

“ - hearing this - “

“ - absolutely not - “

“What is your name, dearie?” Balin asked, ignoring the outcries of all the dwarves around him.

Smiling, she stuck out her hand towards Balin. “Arya Callahan, at your service.”

\--

“Silence!” Gandalf roared, leaping to his feet. Arya flinched, her eyes turning to meet the now-standing Gandalf, who was giving her the same look that her grandfather had given her when she first came home with a shopping bag from Victoria’s Secret. “Callahan, you say?” He continued, his voice dropping back into a normal speaking register.

She nodded, eyes locked with his.

Something, some emotion flickered across his face. “Any relation to an Elizabeth or Anna Callahan?”

Thorin growled. “Gandalf, we do not have time - ”

“My mother and aunt. Respectively,” she finished, ignoring the increasingly belligerent dwarf-king in front of her.

Gandalf’s eyes began to shine as he watched her. “And how long since you’re arrival?”

“Five months.”

The wizard was full-on smiling now. “Indeed.” He turned to look down at Thorin, clapping his hand upon the dwarf’s shoulder. “It appears the Valar have sent you a healer, Master Oakenshield. It would not do well to refuse her.”

Thorin whirled to face him. “You have no authority here - “

“As advisor to the future king of Erebor,” Balin spoke up, motioning Arya over, “I do. Your name on the line, Miss Callahan, and you will receive the same share of the bounty as the rest of the company.”

Dwalin leapt to his feet. “Brother, you cannot possibly be entertaining this!”

Balin waved him off, handing the quill to Arya. “Right there, my dear, excellent.”

Arya grinned, finishing her signature with a flourish. She handed the quill back towards Balin, who took it back gently, a warm smile on his face. “Welcome to the company of Thorin Oakenshield, Arya Callahan.”

“It is bad luck to bring a girl along!”

“And an untrained one at that!”

“We cannot afford to be held back by anyone, let alone a defenseless woman,” Thorin spat. “I cannot guarantee her safety, and I will not be responsible should she perish.”

 _Okay, that’s it,_ Arya growled inwardly _._ She pivoted to face the dwarf-king of Erebor, a saccharine smile on her face. “Well,” she patted him lightly on his flushed cheek, “if you’re half the warrior they claim you to be, we shouldn’t have any problems with that, now should we?

“If you’ll excuse me,” she said, turning to face Gandalf and the dwarves, her hand still holding Thorin’s face. The dwarves were openly gaping at her, a mixture of horror and awe on their faces. Gandalf, she noted, looked much too pleased by the entire scene, and was beaming widely at the pair. “I have just a few arrangements to make. Bilbo,” she said, turning to look at the hobbit, “I need to stop at the Gamgees for a bit. Feel free to grab the extra blankets from my room for our guests. They might be needed.”

She turned back to face Thorin, who had somehow grown even _more_ red since she’d first addressed him. “Your highness,” she murmured, dropping her hand from his face and sweeping into a sarcastic curtsy. He blinked at her and she pivoted, making her way back down the hallway of Bag End and into the cool night air.

Shutting the front door behind her, she collapsed against it, her blood racing, her face flushing, and a warmth burning in her heart.

“This cannot end well,” she heard one of the dwarf’s speak, his voice echoing through one of Bag End’s open windows.

“On the contrary, Master Gloin," Gandalf’s voice replied, “I have far more confidence that this quest will succeed now than I did before our meeting here this evening.”

Sighing deeply, Arya focused on breathing. _Erebor, here we come!_

 

 

 


	6. The Journey Begins

“Are you sure you have to go?” Sam asked for the seventh time that morning.

Arya smiled. She had gotten up at the crack of dawn, being far too anxious about the quest to actually sleep, and, having made enough breakfast for the multitude of dwarves still rousing from their slumber, was sitting outside of Bag End, waiting for Gandalf to return with their horses. Instead of wearing her travelling dress, or any number of the skirts Druella had made her, she had opted to wear her forest green trousers instead, tucking a flowy white shirt into them. Arya also chosen to pin the front portions of her hair back, and had applied almost no makeup - just a dab of concealer because, well, if they ran into any elves, she didn’t want to blind them by the size of her pores.

“I’m sure, Sam,” she replied softly. “Everyone should go on an adventure sometime, don’t you think?”

Sam sighed, kicking his feet in the gravel lane. “I guess so.”

Thankfully, it was in that moment that Gandalf appeared from around the bend, a large company number of ponies in tow. Gandalf himself was on a full-sized horse, and a second full-sized horse followed after him. Where Gandalf’s horse was a dusty gray, the riderless steed was a white so pure that it almost glowed.

Clicking his tongue between his teeth, the horses and ponies came to a stop.

“Ah, Miss Callahan, good morning!” He smiled brightly at her. “Are you ready to embark?”

Smiling, Arya hoisted her bag onto her shoulders. “As ready as I’ll ever be.”

“Excellent, most excellent,” Gandalf exclaimed as he dismounted. “Now, while I’m sure a pony would have been quite suitable, I felt it was imperative to call upon him instead. This is Roheryn, one of the Mearas. He is the Steed of the Lady Aredhel and her kin, swearing to serve them in Middle-Earth as long as they remain.”

Gandalf turned to look at Arya, and she felt herself smile. “Do you ever get tired of knowing everything?”

“Truthfully, my lady?” He leaned close, his voice dropping into a whisper. “Never.”

Snorting, Arya leaned her head against Roheryn’s with a grin. “Well, thank you,” she spoke quickly. “It’s wonderful to meet two of my – their friends.”

“Indeed,” Gandalf winked knowingly. “Now, if you will excuse me Miss Callahan, I need to roust up some dwarves.” With that, Gandalf took off towards Bag End, knocking the door wide open with his staff.

Turning towards Sam, she beckoned him over towards Roheryn with a smile. “Come on, Sam. I’d like to introduce you to a someone.”

\--

The morning sun was just peaking over the mountains when Bilbo finally stumbled out of his bedroom, travelling pack in hand. The house was in an almost constant state of motion as dwarves walked in and out of rooms, reaching for weaponry and shoving various foods into their mouths. One of them – Dwalin, his mind supplied – shoved a plate of breakfast sausages into Bilbo’s hands with a glare. “Eat quickly,” he commanded before spinning on his heel.

Frowning in confusion, Bilbo obeyed, and the last bite of his breakfast was still on his tongue when he finally wandered out of Bag End.

“Ahh, Mr. Baggins!” Daisy Gamgee cried, rushing over to him, happy to ignore the dwarves that were shoving various supplies into the packs on their ponies. “Truly, it is too good of you, Mr. Baggins!”

Bilbo frowned. “I’m sorry?”

“To accompany Miss Callahan on a journey to find the last of her family? The whole Shire will be talking about it. It must be so hard to be leaving the Shire, but truly, Mister Baggins, there’s no one quite as honorable as you, you doing such a kind thing for the poor girl,” Daisy fretted. “Now, I’ve packed you a basket to last you through second breakfast tomorrow, and should you need anything, anything at all, please don’t hesitate to send a letter.”

“Bag End will be well taken care of,” the Old Gaffer appeared from behind her, cutting in on the conversation. “We’ll make sure that Lobelia and her lot stay far away from your silver.”

Bilbo could only nod for a few moments before clearing his throat. “Yes, thank you, Gaffer, Daisy. I’m quite indebted to you.”

Daisy began to tear up, bringing her apron to her eyes. “Nonsense, Mister Baggins. You just travel safely, you hear?”

Nodding, Bilbo allowed himself to be hugged by Daisy Gamgee, who continued to make loud blubbering sounds. “Where is young Samwise?”

“With Miss Arya, I believe. Lad’s having a hard time saying goodbye,” Gaffer smiled sadly at Bilbo. He nodded in Bilbo’s direction, and Bilbo turned around in time to see Samwise leap into Arya’s arms.

“She’s a good one, Mister Baggins,” Gaffer remarked, eying the growing number of dwarves who were exiting Bag End. “You take care of her, you hear?” Gaffer’s eyes moved to a figure behind him.

“Certainly,” he heard Thorin speak coldly.

Gaffer’s eyes narrowed, but he nodded nonetheless.

 _Well,_ Bilbo thought as he extracted himself from Daisy’s embrace, _this should be fun._

\--

“You promise you’ll come back some day, right?”

Arya set Sam back on the down and kissed him on the forehead. “Of course I will! Sooner than you know it. Now, make sure to keep an eye on those forget-me-nots while I’m gone, you hear?”

Nodding shyly, Sam blushed bright red. “Yes Miss Callahan.”

Grinning, she kissed him once more on the cheek before standing up. “Wonderful. I’ll feel better knowing they’re in good hands.”

Daisy, of course, chose that moment to bustle over and wrap Arya in another hug. “Now, Miss Callahan, I’m sending a basket along with Mister Baggins, but I’ve packed some more for you as well. Make sure you get plenty of rest and drink lots of water and be wary of all men,” her voice lowered to a mutter, looking at the dwarves distrustfully. “Tricky, the lot of them.”

Laughing brightly, Arya took the bag of food out of Daisy’s hands, tied it to her saddle next to her duffel bag, and gave her one final hug. “You take care as well, Missus Gamgee. I’ll see you again soon.”

“Quite right, dear. Now, come along Sam, it’s time for breakfast.”

With one final hug at Arya’s knees, Sam dutifully followed his mother back towards Bag End.

“Oy,” she heard one of the dwarves call out, “why does she get an actual horse?”

“Because, Master Kili, she is a lady,” Gandalf scolded, walking over to Arya.

“A lady wearing trousers,” she heard Kili reply, followed by a loud exhale, as if someone had elbowed him the stomach.

 “Much more comfortable than wearing a skirt all the time, don’t you think, master dwarf?” She called back to him. Swinging her aunt’s pack onto her back, Arya accepted Gandalf’s help, and with a quick boost was seated on the back of Roheryn.

“No, no, no, no way, absolutely not,” she heard Bilbo began to complain behind her. “I will not be riding that – that – horse.”

“That is a pony, Master Baggins, and you will ride it and bear it well,” Gandalf barked, climbing onto Shadowfax’s back. Arya turned around in her saddle, just in time to see a grumbling Dwalin lift Bilbo up onto the pony. Bilbo, frozen with embarrassment, blushed bright red as the dwarf stalked away.

“Well, if that will be all,” Gandalf winked at Arya before facing forward and spurring Shadowfax forward, “let’s be off.”

\--

Arya wasn’t sure if Roheryn was able to communicate with Gandalf telepathically, or if he somehow instinctually knew the order in which the company was to travel in, or if he was especially in tune with her own emotions. In any case, Roheryn was taking his time on the journey out of the Shire, making sure to keep pace with Bilbo and his pony, thereby keeping Arya in the far back of the group. Bilbo had grumbled incoherently for about ten minutes or so, only stopping his mutterings when Arya asked him about the history of the Shire itself.

That was two hours ago. Since then, Bilbo had been enthusiastically pointing out different areas of interest as they rode, to Arya's never-ending amusement.

“ - and my great-great-great-great-uncle Bullroarer Took, who was so tall that he could ride a full-sized horse, fought in the Battle of Green Fields, just beyond that far ridge. It's said that when he charged the goblin ranks, he swung his club so hard, it knocked the Goblin king's head clean off, causing it to sail 100 yards through the air before falling down a rabbit hole. And thus, the battle was won, and the game of golf invented at the same time.”

Arya burst out laughing, startling Bilbo slightly. “No way. I don’t believe it.”

“Well, believe it, Miss Callahan, because we Bagginses are known for always speaking the truth,” Bilbo replied decisively.

Shaking her head, she was about to continue when a quiet voice interrupted them. “Excuse me.”

Arya and Bilbo both looked straight ahead to find the dwarf in knitted sweaters turned around in his saddle and gazing at Bilbo in curiosity. “Invented the game of golf, you say? And what exactly is golf?”

Bilbo began to sputter. “Golf? Have you never heard of it?”

 “Not at all.”

“Well, the game of golf is rather simple - “

“Do you mind if I write this down?” He asked, a feather quill and parchment appearing out of nowhere. “I’m a scribe you see, and, well, I’m chronicling our journey - just when I have the time because, you know, orcs and such things. We dwarves know almost nothing about hobbits, so if you wouldn’t mind, I’d like to keep a diary of this information - “

“By all means, master dwarf,” Bilbo nodded his head as he blushed fiercely. “You are more than welcome to it.”

“Wonderful!” He exclaimed, scribbling on the parchment. “And you can call me Ori, Mr. Baggins.”

“Then you can call me Bilbo,” Bilbo nodded at him. Arya was going to cut-in herself, but Ori had steadily ignored her the entire time he was talking with Bilbo. Whether it was superstition, embarrassment, or that he simply disliked her, she couldn’t tell, so Arya decided to let the moment slide by with only a silent sigh on her part, letting the attention return to Bilbo.

“So, where was I? Ah, yes, the game of golf. Now, the object of the game is quite simple, really, most fauntlings learn it by the age of seven – now, I was a bit of a prodigy, having mastered my swing by the age of five...”

\--

Dwalin called for the company to halt soon after that, which was an absolute godsend. Arya dove into the wooded area and relieved herself in a rather secluded grove of bushes. She’d remembered to grab the bag from her aunt off of Roheryn’s back, and almost sang out in relief to find that all the necessary toiletries were in there – including hand sanitizer. She hadn’t really considered the mechanics of, well, dealing with bathroom issues for the next however long it was that she was travelling with ALL MEN and, for probably the thirtieth time she was in Middle Earth, mentally sang the praises of whichever wizard it was that gave Anna the pack.

Having securely stuffed the remaining toilet paper and hand sanitizer back in the bag, she made her way back towards the group, most of whom were already saddled up. Bilbo had abandoned her for the center of the pack, it seemed, as he and his pony were currently squished between Ori and the dwarf in the yellow hat, who were still asking him all sorts of questions about golf. Thankfully, Gandalf was waiting next to Roheryn, and graciously helped her mount the horse again. “Thank you,” she wheezed as she landed on Roheryn’s back.

“Of course, my lady,” he bowed slightly before making his way towards the front of the group, a small smile on his face.

Arya smiled back, her eyes drifting towards the front of the pack. Balin, Thorin, and a whole mess of dwarves she hadn’t met yet were all circled around each other, whispering fiercely about something. She was too far away to discern just what they were speaking about, but from the frequent eye contact she was making with the aforementioned dwarves, she felt she could hazard a guess.

Balin waved his hand in the air and turned his pony around and made his way back towards Arya, ignoring the hisses coming from Thorin and company. “How are you holding up, Miss Callahan?” He asked, his pony coming to a stop next to Roheryn.

“Very well, thank you,” she replied with a small smile. “And yourself?”

“Oh, well, I am quite accustomed to this sort of travelling,” Balin chuckled. Snapping his heels against his pony’s flank, the pony turned around so Balin and Arya were facing forward, his pony directly to her left. “Would you care for some company?”

“That would be lovely, thank you.”

With a quick shout from Thorin, the dwarves in the front of the group fell back into formation, and the company continued towards Bree.

“Master dwarf,” Arya began.

“Please, Miss Callahan, you may call me Balin.”

“Then you can call me Arya,” she replied with a wide smile. “Balin, I hope it’s not too impolite to ask, but would you mind running over the company in total for me again? I think I missed most of the introductions last night.”

“Certainly, Miss Ca – Arya,” Balin caught himself. “As you know, I’m Balin, son of Fundin. I was an advisor to Thorin’s father Thrain before he passed on, Mahal guard his soul, and now I advise his son.” He began to point to various dwarves. “Dwalin, my younger brother. Worked as a miner in the Blue Mountains before becoming Thorin’s guardsman. Bifur, Bofur, and Bombur are cousins from the Ur clan. Bifur and Bofur are miners, and Bombur is our resident chef. Now, just be aware that due to a rather unfortunate mining accident, Bifur is unable to speak anything besides Khuzdul.”

“Really? Why is that?”

“We think it has something to do with the axe in his head - “

“Wait, what?”

“- so don’t be offended if you’re unable to understand him. One of us will be more than happy to translate for you. Dori, Nori and Ori are brothers, also settled in the Blue Mountains. Ori, you’ve met, he’s a good lad. Dori is the eldest, and the last of the miners in our group. Nori, the middle one, is a bit of a scoundrel. Dwalin’s thrown him in jail once or twice for stealing.”

“Stealing?”

“Nothing to worry about, my dear, he’s kicked the habit. Gloin and Oin are smiths working in Ered Luin. Decent men, they both are, with Oin doing a bit of healing work himself. Gloin has a son named Gimli, and if you even so much as mention children, he’d be more than happy to talk your ear off about him.

“Now, for the royal line of Durin. Princes Fili and Kili, the sons of Princess Dis and the late Prince Vili, Mahal keep him in peace, both raised in the Blue Mountains. They're a bit young to go on this sort of adventure, at least by dwarven years, but Thorin felt it necessary, especially as Fili is next in line for the throne.”

“Next in line?”

“Aye. Any member of the royal family can sit on the throne - if they challenge the current leader to a contest. Otherwise, it is just like the kingdom of man, the eldest of the line inheriting the throne. Which leads us to our leader. Thorin Oakenshield, son of Thrain, son of Thror.”

Arya could almost see Thorin’s back stiffen at Balin’s words, as if he was privy to their entire conversation. She knew the answer to her next question, but she had to ask it anyways. “Oakenshield? That’s not a surname, is it?”

“No, my lady, it is not. It was given to him in battle, after his defeat of Azog, the Pale Orc.”

Balin’s voice took on a softer edge. Arya turned to look at him and saw his eyes glaze over, as if he was reliving a distant memory. “What happened?”

Balin inhaled, and the sounds of the other dwarves’ chatter faded away as Balin began to speak.

“After the dragon took the Lonely Mountain, King Thror tried to reclaim the ancient Dwarf kingdom of Moria. But our enemy had got there first. Moria had been taken by legions of Orcs, led by the vilest of all their race: Azog the Defiler. The giant Gundabad Orc had sworn to wipe out the line of Durin, and to accomplish this, he began by beheading the king. Thrain, Thorin's father, was driven mad by grief. He went missing. Taken prisoner or killed, we did not know. We were leaderless. Defeat and death were upon us.

“But that is when I saw him.” A small smile appeared on Balin’s face, and Arya found herself smiling softly in return.

“A young Dwarf prince facing down the pale Orc. He stood alone against this terrible foe, his armor rent, wielding nothing but an oaken branch as a shield. Azog the Defiler learned that day that the line of Durin would not be so easily broken. Our forces rallied and we drove the Orcs back from Moria, the body of the Defiler laying at Thorin’s feet. But there was no feast nor song that night, for our dead were beyond the count of grief. We few had survived.

“But it was in that moment,” Balin finished in a whisper, “that I knew there was one who I could follow. There was one yet that I could call king.”

The dwarves were silent. Arya looked away from Balin, her eyes trained on the horse in front of her. She tried to speak several times, the words dying in her mouth. _You can do this, Arya. You can find the words._

“I’m sorry for what happened to you.”

That stirred Balin out of his stupor. “Dearie, there is nothing for you to apologize for - “

“Aye, and we do not want your pity!” A dwarf – likely Dwalin – yelled from the front of the group.

“I am not sorry because I pity you,” Arya lifted her eyes towards Balin, ignoring the rest of the dwarves who were assuredly still listening in from the front of the group. “I am sorry because I wish you hadn’t had to suffer it in the first place. Losing your home is hard, but losing people you love – I wouldn’t wish that on anyone.”

Balin’s gaze instantly focused in on hers, eyebrows drawn together in an expression that Arya couldn’t quite decipher. “You speak from experience,” he replied, almost asking her.

She nodded. “My grandfather – he passed on not too long ago. It wasn’t in a battle or an accident, it was just his time. But - ” she frowned, her eyes dropping from Balin’s face again, “he was all I had. And I’m not trying to compare our experiences, or say that I’ve suffered nearly as much as you and your people have, but I can empathize. And if I could ease your suffering, I would.”

Balin reached over and patted Arya’s hand comfortingly. “Thank you, my dear, but it was a long time ago. There’s no use dwelling on the sorrows of the past,” he spoke loudly before turning back to Arya with a smile. “Besides, that’s why we brought a healer along, to ease our suffering.”

At that Arya laughed, and she felt her shoulders relax almost instinctually. “Good, because if you were counting on my hunting abilities, we’d be in big trouble.”

Now it was Balin’s turn to laugh, and Arya could almost sense the tension amongst the rest of the dwarves drain out. “It’ll be good practice for the princes anyways. Make sure they know how to earn their keep.”

At the sound of indignant cries coming from the front of the group, Arya and Balin chuckled loudly in unison. “Now, now, humility is good for the soul, lads!” Balin called forward.

One of them yelled something back that sounded like utter gibberish to Arya, but that Balin waved away with a laugh. “So, that’s our story, my dear. What's yours?”

“Well, like I said, I’m from a small island off the coast of Harlindon - “

“Ah, yes, which island was it?”

Arya froze. _Shit. No one’s asked me that yet. THINK THINK THINK -_

 _“_ Oahu!” She blurted out.

Balin frowned. “Oahu?”

“It’s one of the smaller islands, very lovely this time of year, anyways,” she spoke hurriedly, “I was born there and raised by my grandfather. We lost my parents when I was very young, so he took me in.”

“A generous man indeed.”

"He was the best,” she nodded in agreement. “He sacrificed so much to give me a home. I’ll always be grateful to him for that.”

“My dear, I am terribly sorry for your loss. You have no other family?”

“I’m afraid not - well, an aunt, but she’s on the other side of the world.” _And who knows what my mother is up to._ Arya waved her hand dismissively before reaching for her canteen and taking a desperate gulp of water.

“A betrothed, perhaps?”

Arya choked as she inhaled her water, coughing violently. “Uh, no, no, no,” she wheezed, twisting the cap back onto her canteen. Roheryn whinnied, as if in agreement, and Arya fought breathe and cough at the same time. “Nope, none.”

“Really? Given your age, education, and beauty, I’m quite surprised - “

“Well, I’m not,” Bilbo cut in, slowing down his pony so he could turn and glare at Balin. “She can do far better than just settling for an errant farm boy, and I will not allow any more speculation regarding this matter, thank you very much.”

Balin, looking appropriately apologetic, nodded first towards Bilbo and then Arya. “I apologize for my impertinence, miss.”

Arya glanced back and forth between Bilbo and Balin, nodding at them both as she fought off the last of her coughs. “Uh, yes, thank you.”

Bilbo nodded, satisfied, and spurred his pony back on ahead.

“Well, it appears our burglar is taking his role as your chaperone quite seriously.”

Arya relaxed, watching as Bilbo began conversing with Ori and Bombur once again. “I don’t know what I’d do without him, honestly.”

“You are fond of him, then?”

“Very. I stumbled into Hobbiton with no idea where I was going or what I was doing and he gave me a place to stay, food to eat, and friendship when I had none. I’m in his debt.”

Balin exhaled, relaxing. “Surely you’re repaying it by accompanying him on our journey.”

Arya shrugged. “I’m here as much for me as I am for him. It was time I left the Shire, although I wouldn’t dare tell Bilbo that.”

“Really?” Balin asked. “Where would you have gone?”

“I’m not sure.” _LIES. “_ I just have a feeling that whatever it is I’m searching for, I haven’t found it yet. And I don’t think I would have found it staying in Hobbiton.” _Okay, partial truth, good job._

“Well, I hope our quest may help you find it, my lady.”

 _Oh, you have no idea._ “I have no doubts about that, Balin.” Her grin matched his. “Would you mind telling me about life in the Blue Mountains? I love a good cultural anthropology lesson.”

Balin didn’t mind, and he did, up until the company stopped and made camp for the evening.

\--

Bilbo was at Arya’s side the moment she slid off of Roheryn. “How are you faring?”

“Pretty well, considering I don’t ride horses often,” she winced, dropping into a crouch. “I’ll probably be sore tomorrow. Yourself?”

“Quite sore. And tomorrow will only be worse, I’m afraid.” Bilbo sighed, shaking his head, before pulling Arya back into a standing position and dragging her towards the far side of the fire. “Come! Bring your bedroll, we’ll set up shop over here. Well, you’ll set up over here. The rest of us will be sleeping nearby, but not too nearby, for propriety’s sake - “

“Peace, Bilbo Baggins,” Gandalf chuckled, dropping his hands onto Bilbo’s shoulders. “I’m afraid there will not always be room for propriety on this journey. Miss Callahan may have to adjust to that.”

“I’ll be fine - ”

“Over my dead body!” Bilbo huffed, stomping off towards the far side of the camp, Arya in tow. She just shrugged at a still-chuckling Gandalf before allowing herself to be easily pulled to the far side of the camp. Roheryn followed closely behind, and laid down facing the fire so that Arya could curl up next to him come nighttime.

“Yes, well, he may do a better job chaperoning than I am,” Bilbo spoke almost as an afterthought, watching the way Roheryn snorted in the dwarves’ direction.

“Yeah, but you’re a much better cook,” she replied, hugging the hobbit quickly. “I’d be more than happy to be your camping buddy.”

Bilbo flushed bright red, and for the first time since the dwarves had arrived, Arya’s laugh was loud and full.

\--

The dwarves mostly avoided her during dinner that night, only acknowledging her presence when they needed to hand her a plate of food. Otherwise, they were all but dog-piling on top of Balin. If they were trying to be nonchalant about their curiosity, they were doing a horrible job of showing it. The dwarves spent the evening speaking in low voices as they glanced back and forth between Arya and Balin, who looked to be speaking rather animatedly, probably about her. The only one whose gaze didn’t jump all over the place was Thorin, who instead opted to stare at her unceasingly.

_Yep. Definitely talking about me then._

She heard Bilbo snort before he dropped down onto the ground next to her. “Dwarves. I swear, they’re worse than the Bolger women during wedding season.”

“The Shire has a wedding season?” Arya turned to look at Bilbo, choosing to ignore the way that Thorin was looking at her, like he was trying to penetrate her mind with the sheer force of his gaze.

“Yes, and it lasts all year long,” he moaned, sitting on the ground. “At least I won’t be hearing that every morning from now on.”

“It’ll be the melodious sounds of dwarfish snoring instead,” Arya said with a laugh, causing Bilbo to chuckle as well. However, her laugh faded quickly, and her eyes flickered back towards the dwarves. “They’re not very subtle, are they?” She asked in a low murmur.

Bilbo snorted loudly. “I would say not!”

“Dwarves are not known to be light of foot or of speech,” Gandalf agreed. He was seated near Arya, his back leaning against Shadowfax, blowing circles of smoke into the night air. “And you are too much of a mystery to go undiscussed.”

“I can speak to them on your behalf, if you would like,” Bilbo offered.

Arya just shook her head. “Thanks, Bilbo, but I’d rather not have a middle man. They’ll get used to having a woman around sooner or later.” _I hope._

Neither Bilbo or Gandalf replied, the latter just humming thoughtfully.

Roheryn whinnied quietly, and Arya pulled her blanket up to her chin. Leaning against the Mearas, she shut her eyes, and soon the sound of mumbling dwarves faded into the blissful quiet of sleep.

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> That's it for the first batch of uploads! I'm excited to announce that this story is 100% DONE and I'm starting work on the sequel! I'm still just going to upload it in batches, I don't want to finish it all at once :) I hope you enjoy my meander through Middle-Earth!


	7. Boy Scouts of Bree

The sun had just begun to pierce the morning sky when Arya woke up. A quick glance around the now extinguished campfire revealed she was, once again, the first one conscious and ready to travel.

Throwing her pack over her shoulder, Arya crept silently into the wooded area near the camp site and went about her morning routine. She almost shrieked in joy when a cup of Starbucks coffee appeared alongside toilet paper, hand sanitizer, mouth wash, her hair comb, and the detoxifying face wipe that she had pulled out of her bag.

_ I’m going to marry that wizard.  _ She sighed happily, tossing her empty coffee cup behind a bush.

“And just where have you been?”

Arya jumped straight into the air before whirling around to find herself face to face with an unimpressed Bilbo Baggins. “Good God, don’t scare me like that!”

“Oh, my apologies, like  how  you frightened me when I woke up and found that you were nowhere to be seen?”

“I had to take care of business and you were sleeping ! ”

“Well, I expect you to wake me up next time! Honestly,” he whirled around, stalking back towards the camp site, where the rest of the dwarves were trying – and failing – to not look like they were engrossed  in their  conversation. “How am I supposed to chaperone you if you insist on not being chaperoned?”

“Sorry, Bilbo!”

“Yes, well, apology accepted, but just this once, young lady!”

Grinning, Arya leaned down, kissed him on the cheek, and practically skipped towards Gandalf. Bilbo, for his part, flushed bright red and brushed at his cheek  before following suit .

“And how are you this fine morning, Miss Callahan?”  Gandalf asked, watching Arya’s energized approach.

“I’m doing wonderfully, thank you Gandalf.”

He beamed, handing her a  bowl  of food. “Well I, for one, am glad to see that at least one member of our company is in a cheerful mood. Come, eat quickly, we leave in half an hour.”

\--

“Just where do you think you’re going?”

Kili  winced at the accusatory tone in his brother’s voice. He whirled around, a too-wide grin on his face. “Just going to check on the company, see how they’re doing, that sort of thing - “

“You know we aren’t to go near them,” Fili scolded.

Kili  deflated. “But why? They have Balin’s approval - “

“Because I said so,” Thorin’s voice rumbled from behind him.  Kili  winced before turning to look at this uncle, who was glaring at him, entirely unimpressed. 

“But Balin said - “

“What Balin said does not matter,” Thorin grumbled, turning to look at Balin with the same accusatory expression Fili had just aimed at  Kili . Balin, however, refused to be cowed, and smiled cheerfully at Thorin instead. “They do not belong with us, amongst our company. The others may acknowledge them, but we will not. The sooner they can be convinced to leave, the better  for them and for us . Do you understand?”

Kili’s  shoulders slumped forward. “I understand.”

“Good.” Thorin nodded authoritatively at the rest of the gathered group – Fili, Balin,  Dwalin ,  Gloin  and  Oin . “That goes for you as well.”

The group – minus Balin – murmured their  acquiescence . With a quick glare aimed towards the wizard and the woman, Thorin turned on his heel and stalked off towards the woods.

\--

Bilbo turned around as soon as he’d saddled up and gasped, which of course caused the rest of the dwarves to whirl around in their saddles. “What do you think you’re doing?”

Arya winced, pushing down on her right thigh as she stretched her left leg out against the ground. “Stretching.”

“What sort of stretching is that?”

“The kind that makes it less painful to ride horses when you’re not used to it.” Standing up, she grabbed hold of her right foot and held it back behind her head, helping her back and leg muscles loosen. After doing the same with her left she dropped her foot to the ground, shook out her arms and legs, and swung herself back onto the saddle.

“Does it work?” He asked, still looking at her strangely.

“We’ll find out!” She chirped. Clicking her tongue against her teeth,  Roheryn  set off at a brisk canter, quickly moving past all of the dwarves until she was keeping stride with Gandalf at the very front of the group. “Let’s go, slowpokes!”

Thorin grumbled, urging his pony forward. And if Balin was suddenly overcome with a suspicious coughing fit, well, no one deemed it wise to remark upon.

\--

Once he had deemed that they were far enough ahead from the rest of the group, Gandalf motioned for Shadowfax and  Roheryn  to slow down to a quick trot. “So, Arya,” he began, eyes glued on Arya, “how has Middle-Earth been treating you ? ”

“Well, mostly,” Arya replied honestly. “It still doesn’t feel real to me sometimes.  That’s normal, right?”

“I  believe  s o . Anna and Elizabeth felt much the same way at first, if my memory serves me.”

"You really knew them, then?” She asked, turning to look at Gandalf.

“I did,” he replied quietly. “ Two  of the kindest people I’ve ever had the pleasure of meeting. I am sorry you did not know  them as I did; your mother, especially.”

“Grandpa used to say the same thing,” she exhaled deeply, eyes flickering down and focusing on Shadowfax’s back. “He was at peace with them leaving. I don’t know how much he knew about it all, he never said, but – he was at peace with it. Me, on the other hand – yeah, I wasn’t. ”

Arya looked up and forced herself to smile at his concerned gaze. “It’s all right, Gandalf. I wouldn't trade  my childhood with him for anything.  That’s why  being here is so hard.”

“A nd why is that, if you don’t mind my asking? ”

_ Okay,  _ _ Arya _ _. Be smart about this. _ “Middle-Earth stories were his favorite,” she began carefully. “He spent more time talking about and studying them than he did anything else. It - it almost feels wrong in some way, to be here without him. Like he should be here in my place. He should get the chance to see this. To see them again."

Gandalf was silent for a moment, watching doubt flicker across her forehead. “ Eru Iluvatar  does not make decisions lightly,” he began finally.  “ You are meant to be here. And because you are here, your grandfather is here as well, his spirit watching over and guiding yours.”

It was at that moment that they crested a hill. The glare of the morning sun briefly blinded Arya, and she held up her hand, momentarily stunned by the sight.

Different shades of green rolled into each other as the road began to weave amongst a series of small hills. The golden light of the sun made every color appear warmer, brighter, more alive than Arya had ever seen in her life. And beneath  Roheryn’s  feet, mixed in with the soft blades of grass, was the largest array of natural Forget-Me-Nots Arya had ever seen, their periwinkle blue standing out brilliantly against the grass.

Arya felt the tears on her cheeks before she knew she was  crying .

“The ones that love us never truly leave us,”  Gandalf  murmured.  He pressed something towards her. Arya turned in time to find a small bouquet of Forget-Me-Nots now grasped in her hand.  “Remember that.”

Smiling, Arya wiped away her tears and raised her eyes to meet Gandalf’s. “I will. Thank you. "

Gandalf smiled back at her, and with a murmur, their horses began the long descent onto the road below.

\--

Arya rode in front with Gandalf until the first stop of the day.  Roheryn , like before, followed her into the woods, and upon her return most of the dwarves had already begun riding again, meaning Arya was once again relegated to the back. Bilbo was waiting for her, and he was not alone. Ori was by him again, although smiling shyly, and  Bofur  – the dwarf with the pointy hat – was beaming.

“Apologies for not properly introducing myself early,  m iss. The name’s  Bofur ,” he exclaimed, holding out his hand. 

Beaming, Arya took his hand and shook it. “Nice to meet you,  Bofur . And please, call me Arya.”

Grinning,  Bofur  hit Ori on the back. “You know Ori, yes?”

“Yes! Good morning to you, Ori!”

The dwarf flushed, but mumbled a “good morning” to Arya in reply  in spite of it .

Arya climbed back onto  Roheryn’s  back, and the group took off at a brisk pace, only slowing down once they had reached the end of the parade.

“So,”  Bofur  began, turning to look at Arya, “Bilbo says you tell some of the best stories he’s ever heard.”

“Well, I  \- ”

“Would you mind sharing a story with us?” Ori cut in, rather frantically. “It doesn’t have to be very long, or anything - “

“But we’d like to judge for ourselves. See if our burglar is honest, that sort of thing,”  Bofur  cut Ori off.

Laughing, Arya nodded before turning to look at Bilbo. “Was there one you had in mind?”

“The one about the man in the sky was rather popular with the Tooks,” Bilbo replied. “Why don’t you start with that one?”

“Well, I guess  \- ”

“Great!”  Bofur  adjusted so he was facing Arya expectantly. “We’re ready when you are!”

_ Just think before you speak _ _. You've done this before, you can do it again. Besides, you practically have the movies memorized! _

_ “ _ Well, this story takes place a long, long time ago, in a place far, far away.”

“How far away?”  Bofur  interrupted. Ori hit him in the arm, but  Bofur  looked at Arya expectantly anyways.

“As far away as the stars. In fact, this story takes place on a star – or, well, on a bunch of different stars.”

“It takes place on a star?”

“Well, you see, my people believe that what we call stars are actually other worlds, like our own. All sorts of different people and animals live there. And long, long ago, the people that lived amongst the stars built great ships, and sailed the ships amongst the stars, traveling to see these different worlds. It’s one of these worlds that our story begins. 

“What world is it?”

“A world called Tatooine, home to sand,  never-ending droughts , and a young farmer named Luke Skywalker.”

\--

Retelling  _ A New Hope _  took practically all day, between  Bofur’s  frequent interruptions and Arya’s continued,  er , modification of the story. Her audience didn’t seem to mind that the story was unfolding over the better part of the day; in fact,  Bofur  shook her hand and thanked her once they reached the campsite, remarking that it made an otherwise long day seem to fly by. They rejoined the other dwarves on their side of the campsite  when it came time to rest , but she’d fallen asleep that night feeling slightly better about the whole situation.

Bilbo beat her to consciousness on the next day and stood guard while she took care of her morning routine in the woods. When she finally returned to the campsite, she’d found that Ori and  Bofur  were waiting for both her and Bilbo, as was Nori.  Bofur  had asked her to retell the Skywalker story, but Bilbo caught the wary look in her eye and graciously deflected, giving Arya the chance to rest her voice after a full day of talking. Instead, Bilbo somehow managed to convince Nori to talk about his greatest heists, and as a result their small group spent most of the next day laughing at Nori’s antics as he described the Great  Emerald  Incident of 2931. And if  Dwalin  seemed to be in a foul mood the entire day, well, Nori was all the happier for it.

They reached Bree in the early afternoon of their fourth day of travel. After housing the ponies – and horses – in an overnight barn, the group made their way to the Prancing Pony. Bilbo somehow managed to secure separate rooms for both himself and Arya, making sure that his room was directly between her and the rest of the dwarves, to prevent any “improper fraternization”  he’ d said when she asked.  _ Not that THAT’S a concern _ , she thought to herself as the dwarves disappeared into their shared quarters. Although Ori,  Bofur  and Nori had travelled next to the pair over the last few days, none of the dwarves – excepting Balin – had approached her when she was alone. And only Balin – and now  Bofur  – actually spoke to her directly.

Dropping her pack next to the bed, she flopped down with a sigh.  _ Great. They're avoiding me _ _. _ _  Wonderful. Perfect. How the hell am I going to fix this?  _ Groaning, h er  eyes fluttered shut, and  exhaustion soon beat out her anxious thoughts.

A loud knock on her door woke her a few hours later. She leapt to her feet and threw open the door, finding herself face to face with a smiling Gandalf. “Would you care to join  Bilbo and myself  for dinner, Miss Callahan?”

Bilbo peered his head in around Gandalf’s bulky form and smiled encouragingly. Arya couldn’t help but smile in reply.  “Yes, thank you.” Grasping for a shawl, she wrapped it around her shoulders, and the t hree  made their way towards the tavern connected to the inn. 

The tavern was a rather raucous scene. The dwarves were seated at a long table in the center of the room, food and ale flying back and forth across the table. Several smaller tables surrounded them, most of which were occupied by small groups of men. In fact, Arya noted as she glanced around the room, it seemed she was the only woman in the establishment.

Gandalf motioned for  them  to follow him, and they made their way towards a small table next to the fireplace in the far corner of the room. She felt the eyes of the room as she weaved around the tables, and she rolled her eyes at the small lulls in conversation as the men in the room gawked.

_ Wonderful _ _ , just what I wanted: the patriarchy.  _ Coming to a stop in front of the table, she sat down quickly in the seat, Bilbo seated to her left protectively, and the conversation in the room soon returned to its previously boisterous volume.

“I would like to apologize on behalf of the dwarves,” Gandalf said, his eyes clouded with emotion. He nodded in thanks to the server who brought over t hree  servings of chicken and bread before continuing. “I had hoped they would be more welcoming to you both, but I see that is not the case.” His eyes hardened as they made their way over to look at the dwarves. His eyes met Balin’s, who just sighed unhappily.

 “It’s all right,” she smiled at Gandalf, the expression on her face not matching the burning disappointment she felt in her h eart . "It’s getting better, it’s just taking some time.”

At that Gandalf’s eyes moved back towards her, and his eyes twinkled in time with the smile that spread across his face. “You are handling it quite well,  you two . I am unendingly impressed by your resilience.”

“Just the stubbornness of dwarves," Bilbo waved the compliment off. “Nothing we  Bagginses  can’t handle.”

Chuckling, Arya took a bite of her chicken. “If you think dwarves are stubborn, you can’t even imagine the stubbornness of Irish women.”

Bilbo snorted in reply, and then spent the rest of dinner retelling Arya’s “spirited” conversation with Lobelia Sackville-Baggins, to the merriment of the three friends. And as Arya laughed at Bilbo’s animated retelling, Gandalf smiled to himself, memories of another Callahan woman with the same spirit as the young woman sitting in front of him tumbling through his mind.

\--

“He’s trying to get you  both  to leave, you know,” Gandalf remarked over a cup of tea. They’d returned from the tavern only a few minutes earlier, and now the two were taking tea in Gandalf’s room, which was directly across the hall from Arya’s.  Bilbo had declined tea, citing a desire to sleep for at least twelve hours in his goose-feather bed before resuming the journey.

“Who? Thorin?”

“I’m afraid so.” 

Arya snorted into her tea cup. “Shocker,” she muttered dryly, taking a quick sip.

Stirring his tea thoughtfully, the wizard examined her. “Thorin  Oakenshield’s  trust is not won easily. He and his people have been betrayed far too often for it to be given away freely. I sense with you that is not the case.”

“ Grandpa raised me differently,” she shrugged nonchalantly. " _ Never lose the opportunity to see the good in someone.  _ That’s what he always said.”

Gandalf hummed, setting his tea cup down on the table. “I do hope  that attitude rubs off  on the company. If my suspicions are correct, they will need all the allies they can get if they are to reclaim the mountain.”

Arya was about to reply when a cavalcade of footsteps marched back down the corridor. Gandalf held up his hand and leaned towards the door, listening.

“ -  not a good idea - “

“I trust your counsel in all things, Balin,” Thorin’s voice growled. “Trust mine on this. We leave tomorrow, and  _ t _ _ hey _  do  not leave with us.”

Several voices began to speak at once as the dwarves continued down the hall. The hall to their chambers slammed shut.

“It appears the dwarves  are planning  to leave you behind,” Gandalf remarked quietly.

Arya  turned back to face  him, a smirk on her face and a fire in her eyes. “I’d like to see them try.”

\--

Gandalf had awoken her quietly just before dawn, and by the time the first rays of sunlight were illuminating the sky, Arya was exiting the Prancing Pony bright-eyed, highly-caffeinated, and ready for another day of travelling. None of the dwarves – nor Bilbo – were awake yet, and she’d refused to leave the tavern without Gandalf’s promise that he would ensure Bilbo was awake on time as well. 

The streets of Bree were quiet and mostly empty, save a few groups of men walking about and murmuring to their horses. A rather large contingent of men dressed in black were seated around the outside of the overnight barn, and Arya deliberately straightened her back as she walked past them to gather  Roheryn .  _ Pay no attention to the lone woman near the horse barn,  _ she thought , attempting to will that desire into existence.

Roheryn  was waiting for her near the door, as if he could sense her presence. Smiling, she slipped an apple to the  Mearas , who whinnied softly before butting her head with his own. 

“Excuse me.”

Sighing, Arya whirled around to find herself face to face with one of the men dressed in black.  _ Whoa _ _.  _ _ Never mind, I take it back!  _ He had long sandy brown hair, the vaguest shadow of a beard and mustache upon his face, and dark brown eyes that looked dangerous in a way that would have made Arya worry about her virginity (if she still had it).

“You’re the girl travelling with the dwarves?”

 “They are my companions, yes.”

The man laughed, shaking his head. “You’re no girl, that’s quite clear.”

Alarm bells started to go off in her head.  Turning her body so it was directly facing his, she crossed her arms over her chest. “Excuse me?”

“The way they were speaking last night, we thought they were travelling with some infant.”

Arya felt her face flush red. “Yes, well - “

“They’re lucky men, to get to travel with a lady such as yourself.”

Tightening up her stance, she glared at him. “I’m sorry, what exactly are you implying here?”

A second man walked up behind the first and elbowed him sharply in the side. “That you are a lady, miss, and they are undeserving of your company, entirely in a proper sense, of course.” Leaning in towards the man, he whispered harshly in his ear. The first man just winked at her before waltzing off.

“Apologies, milady,” the second man said, turning to face Arya. He looked a few years older than the first man, and his hair was as dark as night, with deep blue eyes to match. “Eldrin is not the most well-spoken, but he means well.”

Arya snorted,  quirking her eyebrow at him . “I don’t believe that for a minute.”

That caused the newcomer to laugh. “Beautiful and  smar t, a  dangerous combination .” Smiling widely, he held out his hand. “Gilraen, Ranger of the North. It is an honor to meet you, my lady.”

“Arya Callahan,” she replied, taking hold of his hand  tentatively . “The honor is mine.”

“If you don’t mind me asking,  Miss  Callahan,”  Gilraen  asked, stepping closer to her, “why would a lady such as yourself be travelling with a group of dwarves?”

“I’m a healer,” she replied, turning slightly so she could run her hands through  Roheryn’s  mane.  The action seemed to settle him somewhat, as well as her own nerves, so she continued to brush him with her fingers.  “They are travelling East, and I felt it was my calling to travel with them.”

“What would dwarves need with a healer?”

“Someone who can handle alcohol poisoning,” she replied automatically, flushing the moment the words were out of her mouth.

Gilraen  burst out laughing again, attracting the attention of the rest of the Rangers, including Eldrin. “Aye, that they would need.” His expression grew sober a few moments later and he stepped closer to her. “However, if I may be so bold, my lady, they do not speak  well of you . I would hate to think that you were being mistreated in any way.”

She turned back to face him, a smile on her face. “ I appreciate  your concern, but it is not needed. I’m quite safe.”

A sudden commotion drew their attention, and Arya peered around  Gilraen’s  body just in time to see Bilbo racing towards the pair, the thunderous expression on his face  making  Arya laugh in spite of herself. The dwarves weren’t too far behind him,  Bofur  hollering for the hobbit to slow down.

“Yes, I see that clearly now,”  Gilraen  chuckled before winking at Arya. He whirled around to face Bilbo and the company just as they came to a halt in front of the pair. “Well met, master  hobbit! ”

“What,” Bilbo  pointed his finger in Gilraen’s  face, “is the meaning of this?”

“I mean Lady Arya no harm, master hobbit,”  Gilraen  grinned at Bilbo. “Just merely exchanging introductions.” He turned back to Arya with a smile. “Should you wish to travel amongst companions who would truly appreciate your skills, my lady, we are at your disposal.” He grabbed Arya’s hand away from  Roheryn  and kissed it. 

“I’ll keep that in mind,” she smi led  at him. “Safe travels, Ranger.”

Exchanging a final nod of his head with Arya, Gilraen  pivoted away from  her  and made his way back towards the group of Rangers.

Arya sh ook h er head as  she watched him walk  away, only to  glance down and  find herself trapped in the furious gaze of Bilbo Baggins, and the somewhat concerned gazes of the dwarves themselves.

“What was that?” Bilbo asked,  tapping his foot anxiously on the ground.

Rolling her eyes, Arya opened the gate, allowing  Roheryn  to walk into the courtyard. “Don’t worry about it.”

“Don’t worry – don't worry about it? A man  – a  _ ranger -  _ takes liberties with you and you tell me not to worry about it?” Bilbo flushed bright red, stammering. 

“It’s not a big deal - “

“It’s a very big deal - “

“ Bilbo, it’s fine,  I’ve dealt with worse.”

“WHAT?”

“Bilbo, might I recommend a quieter tone?” Gandalf’s amused voice broke through as he strode over to the group, having greeted the rangers. “Miss Callahan is quite capable of handling herself.”

“I’m not worried about her!” He spat, glaring at Bilbo. “I’m worried about  them, about men ! You can’t trust them!”

Arya shook her head with a laugh, allowing  her gaze to fall on the still-stormy Thorin  Oakenshield . “Believe me. I know.”

Thorin  inhaled sharply  as the dwarves began to talk amongst themselves . Arya just rolled her eyes at their growing murmurs and swung onto  Roheryn’s  back. “We’ll be at the ridge,” she turned, addressing Balin. “I’d hate to keep you waiting.”

With that, she urged  Roheryn  forward, and the  Mearas  broke into a canter, stopping only once they reached the outskirts of Bree.

Sighing, Arya leaned forward in the saddle.  She patted  Roheryn’s  neck absentmindedly, the horse huffing and pawing at the ground. _ Well, that could have gone worse.  _

\--

Thorin watched her – Arya – as she rode away from the group. His heartbeat still hadn’t returned to its resting pace , and its steady pulse threatened to drown out all other sound.

Bilbo continued to fret next to Thorin. “Worse? What could have been worse? WORSE?”

Bofur  grabbed hold of Bilbo, walking him towards the barn. “Nothing you need worry about, Master Baggins. She’s safe, that’s all that matters.”

Kili  pushed his way past Fili, inserting himself into Thorin’s eyesight. “Do you think she heard  -  ”

“She heard,” Gandalf boomed. Thorin turned around to find himself - and his companions – trapped in the wizard’s disapproving gaze. “ The entire town did, if the ranger’s words are true. ” Pushing past them, Gandalf began to mutter to himself.

The dwarves standing behind Thorin began speaking all at once.

“How much, I wonder  \- ”

“ Temper like my mother’s  - “

“Rangers, can’t trust the lot of them - “

“Thorin,”  Dwalin  murmured in his ear. He turned to look at his friend, who was watching him warily. “What are your orders?”

“Get to the ponies,” he replied finally, turning to look at the rest of the dwarves. “We leave now.”

Nodding,  Kili  made move to walk past him. Grabbing hold of  Kili’s  collar, he brought his nephew close. “ This changes  nothing, do you understand?”

Kili  didn’t respond, just looked past Thorin unhappily. Raising his glare, he looked at the rest of the company. “Do you understand?”

They all murmured in assent before spilling past Thorin into the barn.  Kili  wrenched himself out of Thorin’s grasp and shoved past him, a frustrated Fili right on his heels. Soon it was just Thorin and Balin standing in the courtyard.

Balin looked at him solemnly. “I sure hope you know what you’re doing,  laddie .”

Thorin didn’t respond. He just turned on his heel  and followed  after his company into the barn.


	8. Beyond Bree

“Are you sure you’re all right?” Bilbo asked for the twentieth time since they’d left Bree.

“I promise, I’m fine!” Arya blew out an exasperated breath. “It was nothing I couldn’t handle.”

“Well, I know, it’s just - ”  Arya turned to look at Bilbo, who was staring straight ahead, a frown on his face. “You shouldn’t have to. Handle it, that is.”

Her anger deflated in an instant. “Hey,” she grabbed hold of Bilbo’s wrist and squeezed. “It’s just part of being a woman. Please, try not to worry about it. You don't need to be concerned about me.”

“Ever since you wandered into Bag End, I’ve considered you family, Arya,” was his quiet reply. “I think I will always be concerned about you.”

Unbidden tears swam in her eyes  as a sudden yet completely obvious realization practically punched her in the face , and it was only  Roheryn’s  treacherous canter that prevented her from flinging herself onto Bilbo’s pony and wrapping her arms around the hobbit. “You are family to me as well, Bilbo Baggins.”  _ And you have been, for far longer than you’ll ever know _ , she thought, memories of her grandfather reading  _ The Hobbit  _ aloud suddenly dancing across her mind.

He nodded, still staring straight ahead. “I know.” When he turned to look at her, she saw a few unshed tears in his eyes as well. “It’s nice to hear, nonetheless.”

" Awwww !” __ Arya leaned off of  Roheryn  and drew Bilbo into her arms, ignoring Bilbo’s shouts,  Roheryn’s  consternation, and the sudden attention from the dwarves, who were once again riding ahead of them.

“Yes, yes, that’s quite enough of that now, thank you!” Bilbo stammered, pushing Arya back onto the horse. He cleared his throat, readjusting his position on the pony’s back. “Yes. Well, that’s that.”

A loud laugh burst forth from Arya’s chest, and when Bilbo turned to look at her, he found himself caught directly in the brilliant beam of her smile. “Indeed,” she replied happily before readjusting her own position on  Roheryn’s  back. “ Indeed  it is.”

\---

Arya and Bilbo travelled side by side the rest of the day. Whatever else Thorin had said to the dwarves must have stuck, because not even  Bofur  let himself be drawn into Arya and Bilbo’s conversation. Not that she was actively trying to speak with them, of course. She’d given up on that even before they made i t out of Bree . Bilbo, on the other hand, tried and failed, and grew tenser and tenser the more the dwarves passed them by and didn’t acknowledge their presence.

Waking up the next day to a torrential downpour probably didn’t help.

All of the dwarves were grumbling as they hurried about, trying to pack up the camp site. Arya had been in the woods when  the rain  started, and was relatively dry  underneath the trees , all things considered. However, she was less than thrilled at the idea of travelling all day in the rain. Even  Roheryn  seemed displeased with the turn of events, stamping his hooves harder and harder upon the ground the closer they got to the camp site.

“Wait!” Arya smacked her head with her hand. Grabbing for her pack, she stuck her hand inside and whooped. “YES!” Tearing at the plastic wrapping, she shimmied her way into the oversized clear poncho and sighed happily.  _ Have I said I’m going to marry that wizard? Because I’m going to marry that wizard. _

Roheryn  whinnied  as she drew the hood of the poncho over her head. Glancing up, she smiled at the  Mearas  before running her hands through his mane.  “I ’m sorry, but I  don’t think they make them in your size, my friend.”

Snorting,  Roheryn  gently shoved Arya to the side. She laughed, kissing his nose quickly, before making her way back to the camp. 

The thought struck her the minute they reached the edge of the woods. She turned back towards her aunt’s pack thoughtfully.  _ I wonder... _

\---

“Gandalf, can’t you do something about this deluge?” Dori hollered across the camp. Gandalf grumbled to himself before turning to face the dwarves.

“It is raining, Master Dwarf, and it will continue to rain until the rain is done. If you wish to change the weather of the world, you should find yourself another wizard.”

The dwarves went back to their grumbling. 

“ -  rain, of course it’s rain - ”

“ -  use of a wizard if he can’t control the weather - “

“ -  uncomfortable all day - “

“I’ve got just the thing!” Gandalf pivoted in time to see Arya march into the campsite, clad in some sort of clear substance. She walked right up to Dori and thrust a package in his hands. “Put this on.”

Dori gaped at her. “And what might that be?” He said, eyes torn between the package in his hands and the strange material covering the woman’s body.

“It’s a poncho. It’ll keep you dry – or, well, drier than you’d be without it, at this point.”

He glanced back up at her. Indeed, whatever this thing was, the rain was rolling off of it, keeping her clothing and hair dry. She nodded at him before continuing around the circle, shoving the small packages into the hands of the bewildered dwarves, handing the last of them to Gandalf and Bilbo.

“What sort of material is this?” Fili asked, brow furrowed.

Kili  ripped the bag open right away, throwing it over his head as fast as possible. “I don’t know, and I don’t care.”

“I think it’s for the best if we follow suit,” Balin spoke. At that, the rest of the dwarves undid the packaging, shrugging their way into the ponchos. All the dwarves save  Dwalin  and  Thorin, who had to be  growled at  by an incredibly stern Balin before  they  ruefully donned the ir  garment s .

“You have our thanks, Miss Callahan,” Gandalf spoke loudly, a twinkle in his eye. “We shall be much more comfortable than we would have been otherwise.”

“Don’t mention it,” she replied with a smile, helping Bilbo secure the hood of his poncho in place. “I’m  just  glad I could help.”

Gandalf just hummed in reply, and if his gaze lingered on the bag that was strapped to her back underneath her poncho, no one else in the camp noticed.

\--

“It’s been hours,” Bilbo muttered under gritted teeth, “and everything reeks of wet horse.”

“That is to be expected, when one gets caught in the rain,” Gandalf replied unhelpfully.

Bilbo ignored the wizard, continuing to grumble to himself. 

The rest of the company was also in such a mood. It was hard to judge just for how long they’d been travelling, as the dark clouds overhead seeming to be keeping pace with them, the unceasing rain an unwanted companion for their travelling this day. Normally Gandalf prided himself on being a person capable of lightening the spirits of those around him, but it seemed that today, no matter how much he tried, the dwarves – and Bilbo – insisted on being miserable.

In fact, he was about ready to give up on the whole thing, when a soft sound reached his ears.

Bilbo perked up at the same time. “Is that?”

“I believe so,” Gandalf smiled, turning to look behind him. “I believe so.”

\--

It wasn’t intentional.

It just happened.

In spite of handing out the ponchos to the dwarves, she was still relegated to the back of the caravan, and as the rain continued to pour, she felt her spirits  fall along with it . The dwarves were pushing their ponies faster than  Roheryn  deemed it safe to travel, meaning she and Bilbo were travelling a  little ways  behind the rest of the main group, silent in the rain. It was only a matter of time, then, before memories of a different rainy day poured into her mind.

“ _ I don’t like the rain.” _

_ Grandpa’s head rose slowly to look at her, the novel in his hands  _ _ now  _ _ forgotten. “Oh? And why is that?” _

_ She shrugged, looking towards the window. Her small feet swung back and forth, barely grazing the ground, and Sean smiled at the sight. She was growing so fast. They always did, it seemed. _

_ “It just feels sad.” _

_ “Sad? Oh no, no, no, my dear,” he said, pushing himself to his feet. "The earth needs the rain. It needs it to grow and be strong. And, it’s an excellent way to bathe all the skunks.” _

_ Arya wrinkled her nose and squealed. Grandpa laughed at the sound and reached for her, lifting her high into his arms. “Skunks are  _ _ eww _ _!” _

_ “Yes, yes they are,” he’d agreed quite seriously. “But the rain is not. In fact, some people find that the rain makes them happy.” _

_ She quirked her eyebrow at him. “Really?” _

_ “Really. In fact, when it rains outside, they get so happy that they start to sing!” He hummed a few bars as Arya squealed again, and, holding her tightly in his arms, grandfather and granddaughter waltzed their way around the living room as he sang. “I’m singing in the rain, just singing in the rain! What a glorious feeling, I’m happy again! I’m laughing at clouds, so dark up above  _ _ \- ” _

_ “The sun’s in my heart, and I’m ready for love -  _ “

"A lovely melody you’re singing, Miss Callahan.”

Arya startled forward, finding herself face to face with a smiling Gandalf. At some point when she was lost in thought, the wizard had taken up the spot to her left without her noticing. She felt her face flush hotly in response and she shook her head. “Sorry, I didn’t realize I was actually singing out loud - “

“No need to apologize, dear. It does me good to hear a happy song in the midst of such terrible weather.”

Blushing, Arya forced herself to accept the apology. “Well, thanks, I guess.”

“Did you come up with it yourself?”

“What, the song?” 

Gandalf nodded at her expectantly. “No, no, not at all. It’s one that my grandfather used to sing to me when it was raining outside.”

“How lovely.”

“Are there any other s ?” Bilbo piped up. “Songs about rain, I mean.”

“Well, that one’s my favorite,” Arya began slowly. “There’s ‘Rainy Days and Mondays’, which is kind of sad, and ‘She’s My Kind of Rain’, which is actually pretty great for being a country song - “

Bilbo looked at Gandalf questioningly. He just shrugged in reply.

“ -  and there’s ‘Umbrella’, although that one’s a bit more modern. And ‘It’s Raining Men!’” She slapped her forehead. “How could I forget that one?”

“It’s raining men?” Gandalf asked. “Was there a time in which men fell from the sky in your homeland?”

“Well, the rain is more of a metaphor, I think. The  song’s  about a single woman who just wants, you know – wants it to rain men,” she finished slowly.

“And why would she want that?” Bilbo asked, turning in his seat to look at her accusingly.

“Reasons.”

“And what reasons would those be?”

“Umm, well - “

Arya cut off at the sound of s uspicious coughing . She turned and glared at Gandalf. “You’re not helping."

That just caused him to  cough  harder, which in turn caused Bilbo to get increasingly worked up. “Are you suggesting the song is improper in some way?”

“It’s really not that bad  \- ”

“I believe I’ll be the judge of that.”

Arya stopped and stared at him, aghast. “I’m sorry?”

He stuck his arm out and motioned for her to continue. “I’m waiting.”

She flushed bright red. “Bilbo - “

“I’m. Waiting.”

She shot a desperate look at Gandalf, who just winked at her in reply.  _ Great. Just perfect. _

_ “ _ Fine,” she spat out through gritted teeth. “ _ It’s raining men  _ _ -  _ ”

“I can’t hear you!”

Arya continued to mumble through the first chorus anyways. However, the infectiousness of the song started to get to her, so by the time she made her way to the second verse, she was full on belting.

“ _ God made Mother Nature – She's a single woman too! _ ”

“Okay, okay, OKAY! That’s quite enough of that!” Bilbo finally waved her off. Bifur and  Oin , who were the two dwarves closest to them, turned to look at the small group curiously.

“Nope, now it’s stuck in my head.  _ She took off to heaven and she did what she had to do - _ **** “

“Arya - “

“ _ She taught every angel, she rearranged the sky - _  “

“ARYA - “

“ _ So that each and every woman could find her perfect guy! _ ” She whooped loudly, causing Bilbo to jump in his seat. “ _ IT’S RAINING MEN! _ ”

"What is going on back there?!”  Dwalin  hollered angrily from the front of the group. By this time the caravan of dwarves had stopped and were blatantly staring at her. However, instead of feeling cowed, Arya turned to Gandalf, and the two burst out laughing.

“Just some harmless merriment, master  Dwalin ,” Gandalf called back  amidst his chuckling . “Nothing to be concerned about.”

“That’s what you think,” Bilbo muttered. Then, turning in his saddle  once again , he shot Arya a stern glare. “No more of that song, you hear? It’s practically indecent.”

“Yes Bilbo,” she acquiesced sweetly. 

“Your first song, however,” he continued, turning to face the dwarves, “I wouldn’t mind if you sang that again.”

Gandalf winked at her before urging Shadowfax forward, bridging the gap between the pair and the dwarves. “How about I teach it to you then?”

At that a small smile appeared on Bilbo’s face. “I’d like that.”

And  so  she did.

\--

The rain continued for the next two days, as did Bilbo’s musical education. When the sun finally broke on the third day, the entire company had practically sighed in relief. Arya noted that the dwarves held onto their ponchos, stuffing them into the saddlebags of their ponies, and she decided that she would just have to count that as a victory.

But per usual, the minute the weather turned nice, the mood in the company turned sour.

“We’ll camp here for the night. Fili,  Kili , look after the ponies. Make sure you stay with them.” Thorin ordered, slipping off his pony and landing with a thud.

“I think it would be wiser to move on,” Gandalf cautioned, having not yet dismounted Shadowfax. “We could  still make  the Hidden Valley  by nightfall .”

“I have told you already, I will not go near that place.”

“Why not? The elves could help us. We could get food, rest, advice.”

“I do not need their advice!”

Arya slid off of  Roheryn . “This is not going to go well,” she half-muttered, half-sang to the steed.

“We have a map that we cannot read. Lord Elrond could help us.”

“Help? A dragon attacks Erebor, what help came from the Elves? Orcs plunder  Moria , desecrate our sacred halls,  and  the Elves looked on and did nothing. You ask me to seek out the very people who betrayed my grandfather and betrayed my father.”

“You are neither of them. I did not give you that map and key for you to hold on to the past!”

“I did not know that they were yours to keep!”

Roheryn  snorted, pawing at the ground. Arya just sighed and leaned into him, hiding her face in his mane. “I know,  Roheryn . I know.”

Gandalf disembarked angrily, murmuring something in  Sindarin . Shadowfax bowed to him before taking off into the sunset. He stalked by the dwarves without another word.

“Gandalf, where are you going?” Bilbo asked. He stepped towards him, like he was going to run after the wizard.

“To seek the company of the only one around here who’s got any sense!”

“Who’s that?”

“Myself, Mr. Baggins! I’ve had enough of dwarves for one day.” With that, Gandalf shoved into the woods near the campsite. The dwarves began to mutter to each other in a language Arya didn’t hope to understand.

“Come on,  Bombur , we’re hungry,” Thorin ordered, turning his back towards the woods. 

“You’re not the only ones,” Arya muttered, turning to look at the woods.  The trees moved in the breeze menacingly, and Arya felt herself suddenly rooted to the ground.  _ Oh no.  _

_ “ _ The ponies should stay here tonight!” She exclaimed,  turning and running  towards the dwarves.

“Oh?” Thorin growled, turning on his heel. “I did not know that our healer is also a master of horses.”

The dwarves chuckled in response to Thorin’s insult – even Balin, although he looked somewhat uncomfortable doing so. Arya ignored his biting tone and shook her head. “You don’t understand, it’s not safe!”

Dwalin  snorted. “In case you haven’t noticed, lassie, we haven’t exactly been safe since we left the Shire.”

“Just trust me, okay? I don’t like the look of these woods.”

Shaking his head,  Dwalin  waved her off with a toss of his hand, and the dwarves went back to work. Thorin moved to turn away, but Arya was faster. Her hand grasped hold of his wrist, and the camp went silent.

“Thorin, please, trust me on this - “

Thorin’s head whipped back around as he turned to face her. “You are a stranger and a nuisance, and if I had my way you never would have left the Shire,” he declared loudly, his glare somehow fiercer than his tone. “ I  will never trust you.”

He wrenched his wrist out of her hand, and she stumbled backwards at the sensation. This time, she didn’t try to stop Thorin when he pivoted away from her. Instead, she did the same, making her way back towards  Roheryn , chest heaving with  emotion .

“Arya  \- ”  Bilbo said softly, stopping her before she could pass by him.

“I’ll be fine, Bilbo. I just need some time. Go,” she said, motioning towards the dwarves. “Have some dinner.”

“What about you?”

She smiled sadly down at him. “I l ost my appetite. But thanks anyways.”

With that, Arya swept past him, and walked up towards  Roheryn , who was snorting in the dwarves’ direction disdainfully. 

“When the time comes, we’ll need to find Gandalf,” she murmured. “Can you do that?”

Roheryn  huffed, nodding his head against her cheek.

Groaning, she butted her head against his neck.  “I really, really hope I’m wrong about this.”

\--

She wasn’t.

Arya had watched as  Bombur  handed Bilbo the food to carry to Fili and  Kili , and it wasn’t ten minutes later when the princes burst into the camp, shouting about trolls. She’d wanted to stop Bilbo from going, but angering Thorin and the dwarves any more wasn’t likely to help their situation. All she could do was hope that she’d find Gandalf in time.

The other dwarves began shouting and running for their weapons. Arya took advantage of their distraction, vaulted onto  Roheryn’s  back, and they raced into the woods, ignoring the shouts behind her.  Roheryn  seemed to know the direction to travel in instinctively, and before she knew it he was cantering to a stop in front of a rather confused Gandalf.

“ Miss Callahan \- ”

“Trolls!” She wheezed out. “They’re in trouble!”

Gandalf  was at their side in a second . “May I?” 

Arya nodded, and Gandalf climbed in front of her on the horse.

“Stay behind me at all times,” he ordered. Arya grabbed hold of his cloak, nodding into his back.

“Come,  Roheryn . Show us the meaning of haste!”

And with that,  Roheryn  leapt into action, a blur of white in the dark of the woods.

\--

“In--in fact they all have, they’re in--infested with parasites. It’s a terrible business; I wouldn’t risk it, I really wouldn’t.”

Arya sighed in relief as  Roheryn  came to a stop. “Oh, thank  God ,” she murmured. “They’re still alive.”

“No thanks to their own stubbornness , ” Gandalf dismounted  Roheryn . “Stay here,” he ordered, before disappearing into the night.

Arya nodded, feeling  Roheryn  stir beneath her. “I think that’s a wonderful idea.”

“Mine are the biggest parasites! I’ve got huge parasites!”

“Riddle d , absolutely riddled!”

“ Yes  we are, badly!”

“You think I don’t know what you’re up to? This little ferret is taking us for fools!”

“Ferret?”

"The dawn will take you all!” Gandalf’s voice echoed through the wood, and with a bright flash the trolls cried out. Their screams ended as quickly as they began, and the delighted cheers of the dwarves caused Arya’s body to relax instantaneously. 

_ “ _ Where were you?” She heard Thorin’s voice demand. The sound of cutting ropes could be heard, and Arya wished for a brief moment she could have seen the looks on their faces during that whole parasite speech.

“Looking ahead.”

“What brought you back?”

Gandalf whistled, and  Roheryn  walked into the clearing before Arya could stop him. “No, no, no - ”  she murmured, pulling uselessly against the reins.

“She did.”

Arya watched Thorin’s shoulders tense as the rest of the dwarves, save the one in question, turned to look at her.  Flushing, she nodded  at them in greeting before turning to look at the now-stone trolls decorating the landscape. The dwarves, she noticed  out of the corner of her eye , seemed to be looking amongst themselves uneasily, their eyes flickering back to a still-tense Thorin.

“Since when do mountain trolls venture this far south?” Balin asked, disrupting the uncomfortable  moment.

Gandalf shook his head, turning his attention on the trolls as well. “Oh, not for an age, not since a darker power ruled these lands.  They  could not have moved in daylight , ”  he finished, his face arranged in a frown.

“Then there must be a cave nearby!”  Kili  exclaimed excitedly. 

“Our first troll hoard and everything!” Fili replied, punching his brother in the arm.

“But how will we find it?”

Gandalf grimaced distastefully and swept past the dwarves, grabbing hold of  Roheryn’s  bridle. “Believe me, Prince  Kili . You’ll know.”

\--

“Are you sure you do not wish to join us?” Gandalf had asked Arya once they arrived at the troll hoard. The dwarves, still ignoring her, but with a bit more uncertainty, had all but flung themselves into the cave. Even Bilbo, who scrunched up his nose distastefully, managed to walk in.

Gagging, Arya shook her head.  “Trust me, I’ll be just fine out here. Besides, someone has to look after the ponies.”  _ Or, what's left of them.  _ Only three had escaped the trolls unscathed, something which Arya was sure only soured Thorin’s attitude towards her further.

That had been about ten minutes ago. While the dwarves were plundering the hoard, Arya had watched the sun rise high in the sky, wishing she could inconspicuously drink a mug of coffee that she was sure she’d be able to find in her pack. In fact, the moment the short man on the sled pulled by rabbits flew into the clearing, Arya was convinced she’d somehow fallen asleep. 

“ Radagast !  Radagast  the Brown !  What on earth are you doing here?” Gandalf cried out with a smile, stepping outside of the cave. __

“I was looking for you, Gandalf. Something’s wrong. Something’s terribly wrong.”

Arya watched as the wizards bent their heads together. The dwarves spilled out of the cave, talking amongst themselves about the newfound treasures they’d found buried there. Bilbo was sandwiched between  Bofur  and  Kili , both of whom were gesticulating wildly about whatever it was in Bilbo’s hands.

A sudden howl pierced the air, and Arya felt every bone in her body freeze. She turned around to find a snarling creature, some amalgamation of a wolf and a nightmare, standing on the ridge above them. However, it was not the creature itself that made her blood chill. Rather, it was the humanoid riding its back, all mottled skin and yellow eyes that urged the beast forward.

Her mind recognized what it was just as the creature dove onto the dwarves.  _ God, no. _

Kili  had whipped out his bow, shooting the orc off the back of the creature by the time it landed on the forest floor. With a giant swing, Thorin cut the head off of the beast just as the orc tumbled to the ground, only to get disemboweled by  Dwalin .

“ Warg -Scouts! Which means an Orc pack is not far behind!” Thorin shouted.

Gandalf stalked  over to Thorin’s side in a blink of an eye . “Who did you tell about your quest, beyond your kin?”

“No one.”

“Who did you tell?”

“No one, I swear!”

“What in Durin’s name is going on?”

“You are being hunted,” Gandalf snapped. He whistled again, and  Roheryn  charged towards the group. The dwarves began to yell amongst themselves.

“We have to get out of here!”

“We can’t! We have no ponies; they bolted!”

Gandalf pulled  Roheryn’s  bridle close. “My lady, you must leave at once.”

Arya shook her head, trying to dispel the horror from her body. “ Gandalf, I \- ”

“I will not risk your life if I can avoid it!” Gandalf thundered, effectively silencing  her protests.

“Gandalf, we have no time for this,” Thorin barked out, glaring at the pair of them.

The howls sounded again.  __ A shiver ran up and down her spine, and she nodded quickly at Gandalf. “Be safe.”

Gandalf murmured something in Sindarin, and  Roheryn  leapt into action, escaping the shadow of the woods in a matter of seconds. She kept her head bent down as  Roheryn  veered off straight towards the East.  Radagast  had somehow beat her into the valley, and his rabbit-drawn sled was leading the  wargs  in a wild goose chase around the val e . Turning her head further, she was just in time to see the dwarves sprinting out of the woods, headed towards a large stone in the center of the grassy plain.

“ Roheryn , wait!” She exclaimed, pulling on the reins to no avail.  Radagast  had disappeared over the side of the vale, but something had caught the attention of the  wargs . Her heart froze as the creatures turned and began sprinting back towards the dwarves.

“They’re too far,” she muttered to herself. “They’re not going to make it.”

"My lady!”

Arya’s head whipped around at the sound of horses. A large group of riders dressed in black slowed as they reached her, and she gasped in recognition. “ Gilraen ? What are you doing here?”

“We have been following you since Bree,” he came to a stop next to  Roheryn . “Where is your company?”

The loud sound of howling  wargs  answered for her. 

“Gandalf said we’re being hunted,” it rushed out  of her  all at once. “He sent me off.”

“A wise man,”  Gilraen  nodded quickly. “Eldrin!”

The blonde in question rode up towards the group. “Stay back with Miss Callahan. Fell as many  wargs  as you can, we will restock our arrow supply in Rivendell.”  Gilraen  turned back to face Arya, his eyes fierce. “Stay with him. We ride!”

And with that, the rangers raced across the field, swords drawn. Eldrin and his horse came to a rest beside Arya and  Roheryn . “Do not be anxious, my lady. The orcs won’t last the  hour .”

The cry of men and  wargs  clashing reached her ears and she winced, watching as Eldrin continued to fire arrows down the valley. “They’re not the ones I’m worried about.”

\--

"We’re not going to make it!” Bilbo panted, struggling to keep pace with Gandalf.

“ Kili , ready your bow!” Thorin cried, racing forward. “Our journey will not end here, not this day!”

“This is a fight we cannot win, Thorin  Oakenshield !” Gandalf thundered, turning to glare at the dwarf. “The moment we stop moving, we die!”

The snarling of the  wargs  grew nearer, and Bilbo shuddered instinctively.  _ I should have stayed in Bag End. _

“We must stop, Gandalf! We must fight!” Thorin hollered back.

“Thorin - “

“Men! To arms!” He cried, ignoring Gandalf’s commands.

The dwarves skidded to a halt, instantaneously unsheathing their swords. “Hold your ground!”  Dwalin  commanded, shoving Thorin near the center of the group.

The  wargs  slowed down as they approached. The leader of the  wargs , a slug-looking-orc, laughed cruelly down at the gathered group. “The bounty is ours, boys!” The other orcs joined in the laughter.

“Stand your ground!” Thorin yelled, sensing the unease rippling through the dwarves.

A sudden arrow whizzed by Thorin’s head, landing directly in the chest of the orc-leader. A final snarl was ripped from his lungs as his body slid from the  warg .

“What in the - “

The cries of several men flooded the valley, and Bilbo turned just in time to see the rangers from Bree leaping across the valley, horses running straight for the  wargs . 

“What - what are they doing here?” He sputtered as the first of the riders –  Gilraen , he recalled – decapitated the nearest  warg . 

“Giving us  the time  we need. RUN!” Gandalf cried, and this time, the dwarves didn’t hesitate to listen to him.

\--

“What’s happening?” Arya asked Eldrin for the fourth time.

“Several more  warg - riders have appeared in the valley,” his voice  grew hard as he knocked a new arrow into his bow . “Prepare yourself to ride hard.”

“What?” She balked. “No, we can’t - “

The rest of her reply was drowned out by the sound of a loud horn. She turned her head towards the sound, just in time to see an army of horseback elves stream past her and Eldrin. A small group of elves came to a stop next to Eldrin, and Arya tried – in vain – to get a better look at them.

Eldrin  whipped around, turning to face the new arrivals . “Lord Elrond, your timing is perfect as always.”

_ Elrond?  _ _ ELROND?  _

“I am only sorry we did not arrive sooner,” a new voice replied. “We have come from dispatching a group of orcs headed in this direction.”

Eldrin nodded gravely. “We were headed that way ourselves when the  wargs  appeared.”

“Yes. Why have they strayed so far into our lands?” 

“I believe it has something to do with her.” Eldrin turned back to Arya and nodded in her direction. “Lord Elrond, may I present Miss Arya Callahan?”

“Arya Callahan?” A different voice asked.

The first voice murmured something in Sindarin. Eldrin’s horse immediately sprinted down the hill towards the other rangers, Eldrin shouting loudly in surprise . Arya suddenly  found herself face to face with a group of dark-haired elves with suspiciously familiar eyes.

“Arya Callahan,” the same voice murmured from the lips of the tallest of the elves, a man with hair as black as night and eyes a piercing blue.  _ “ _ Daughter of Elizabeth Callahan, niece of Anna Callahan.”

She shook her head rapidly, unsure if he was stating this or asking her. “Yes. You know my family?”

One of the elves behind him snickered. “You could say so.”

The confusion on Arya’s face must have been evident, because  the elf-lord  sighed apologetically. “Yes, I am quite familiar with the ladies Callahan. However, I know them by other names.”

Arya shook her head. “I’m sorry, I’m not familiar with  any other names .”

“No, I didn’t think you would be,” he replied quietly. “Elizabeth - Lady  Elbereth  -  is  our  kin from the Green Wood, and  Anna -  Lady  Celebrian  - ”  His voice cut off suddenly as a distant, warm smile appeared on his face. “Lady  Celebrian  is my wife.”


	9. Aredhel in Rivendell

“I’m sorry, what?” Arya shook her head back and forth. “I must have misheard. Lady Celebrian - “ 

“Is my wife. You heard correctly,” he replied kindly. 

“Oh. Right.” She leaned closer to Roheryn. “Are we sure I’m not insane?” She whispered. Roheryn huffed, shaking his mane. Arya narrowed her eyes at him. “You’re not helping.” 

“Well, you are speaking to your horse,” one of the other elves teased. 

Elrond sighed as Arya’s head shot back up to face them. “Forgive my sons,” he replied, turning to glare at two identical brown-haired elves. “It seems they’ve forgotten their manners.” 

“ _Goheno_ _nin_ _,_ _ada_ ,” they replied quickly, although the one on the left winked at Arya. 

“My wife said we would meet you one day,” he continued, turning to gaze at Arya. “I am sorry that she is not here for it.” 

“Don’t be,” Arya waved her hand. “Anna brought me over.” 

“You’ve seen her?” The twin on the right asked quickly. 

Arya nodded. “Yes.” 

“How does she look?” 

“Happy. Beautiful.” 

“Good,” he nodded, relaxing back into his saddle. 

The group was quiet for a moment as they continued to study each other. “So, we’re family,” Arya finally spoke, eyes flickering amongst the elves.  

“Yes,” Elrond replied. “I am gladdened that you are here, Arya Callahan.” 

_Promise me that you will find a new family. Promise me that you’ll allow yourself to love someone else._  

“Me too,” she smiled, her grandfather’s voice echoing through her mind. “It’s nice – family -” Arya felt tears gathering in the back of her throat. “It’s nice.” 

Elrond’s nod was solemn, but his eyes were warm. “That it is.” 

“Although, we probably shouldn’t tell the dwarves.” 

Now it was the elves’ turn to be confused. “What dwarves?” 

\-- 

The journey to Rivendell went by rather quickly. Unfortunately for Arya, no amount of glaring at Gilraen could stop him from sharing his concerns about the dwarves with Elrond. As it was, Gilraen rode at the front of the pack with Elrond, and Arya – and the twins – were ensconced in the middle of the pack, Elladan and Elrohir riding on either side of her.  

Unlike their father, their expressions were outwardly concerned as Gilraen had shared some of the dwarves’ lesser flattering comments about Arya, and spent the majority of the ride pestering her about their treatment of her, if they needed to challenge one to a duel, if she really needed to go on this quest with them, and if they could please, please, please shave just  _part_  of Thorin’s beard while he was sleeping. 

It was only Arya’s breathlessness at the sight of Rivendell that finally stopped their interrogation. Roheryn was one of the last to crest the hill into the Hidden Valley, and Arya had pulled him to a stop, taking in the view. 

Golden light spilled across an ethereal valley. Although it was late fall, the trees were still a rich emerald green. A light breeze dusted past Arya’s face, and the trees seemed to move along with it, perfectly time with the rhythm of nature itself. 

“A lovely sight, is it not?” Elladan asked quietly. 

“I’ve imagined this so many times,” she breathed out, her eyes watering in spite of themselves. “This is far, far more beautiful than anything I could ever imagine on my own.” 

“I find I have no response worthy of such praise,” she heard Elrond reply. Her eyes flickered towards him and he nodded in acknowledgment. They’d agreed, before the rangers had returned, not to discuss her  _familial_ _ties_ with anyone outside of the elves. The elves would just  _know_ , which was kind of annoying in Arya’s opinion, but he’d agreed with Anna’s words of caution when it came to everyone else. “Come. It is time we greeted your dwarves.” 

\-- 

“This was your plan all along, to seek refuge with our enemy,” Thorin spat, trying to keep pace with Gandalf. 

“You have no enemies here, Thorin Oakenshield,” Gandalf replied coldly. “The only ill-will to be found in this valley is that which you bring yourself.” 

“You think the elves will give our quest their blessing? They will try to stop us.” 

“Of course they will. But we have questions that need to be answered. And, if we are to be successful, this will need to be handled with tact and respect and no small degree of charm, which is why you will leave the talking to me. And Miss Callahan,” he added on as an afterthought. 

Thorin opened his mouth, intending on arguing further, when the sound of an elven horn pierced the quiet air. The company whirled around just in time to see a great number of elvish riders on horseback bear down on them, surrounding the dwarves in a circular formation. The rangers rode in after them and dismounted almost instantly, gathering their supplies as several elves rushed their horses, escorting them to the barns. Thorin made a move towards the rangers, but was prevented from moving further by a tall, dark-haired elf. 

“Lord Elrond! It is good to see you,  _mellon_ _nin_ ,” Gandalf stepped towards the dark-haired elf. 

“Gandalf,” Elrond nodded in reply. “I am glad to see you and your companions made it safely through the pass.” 

“We owe you our thanks,” Gandalf replied with a bow. “And the rangers as well. We were lucky that you were nearby.” 

“Yes,” Thorin spoke up, ignoring Gandalf’s glare. “Quite lucky.” 

The clatter of hooves interrupted the conversation, and Thorin turned in time to see a familiar white horse cantering to a stop amidst the rangers, flanked by two dark-haired elvish riders. 

“Ah, Miss Callahan! I am glad to see you made it safely,” Gandalf called over with a smile on his face. 

Her only reply was a yelp as she fell off of her horse. 

\-- 

Arya had been in the midst of dismounting Roheryn, about to return Gandalf’s greeting when she felt Elrohir violently kick her foot. Suddenly off balance, she flailed for a few seconds before falling into the waiting arms of Eldrin. Warm eyes met hers and suddenly Arya could have sworn the temperature in Rivendell rose by ten degrees. 

_Oh, no. Absolutely not._  

_“_ My lady,” Eldrin nodded at her with a grin. 

“Thanks,” she replied awkwardly, tapping him lightly on the shoulder. 

He just stood there, holding her in his arms and grinning.  

“You can set me down now.” 

He nodded. “I could.” And then he just kept standing there, smiling at her. 

A few moments went by, and Arya could feel her cheeks growing warmer.  _Y_ _eah, no, I’m done with this._  

She kicked her legs suddenly, causing Eldrin to lose hold of his grip and drop her onto the ground. Landing on her feet, she quickly recovered her balance and ran her hands through her hair. Exhaling quickly, she made her way towards the company, ignoring the warm eyes on her back. She was just within arm’s reach of Dwalin when she suddenly felt her feet swept out from under her –  _again._  

_“_ Arya! Are you all right?” She heard Bilbo call out. 

Groaning, she shot a look at Bilbo. “I’m fine. And entirely capable of walking on my own!” She finished, turning to fix her glare on an all-too-pleased Elrohir. 

“Just because you can, doesn’t mean you need to, my lady.” 

“Elrohir!” Lord Elrond barked, glaring at his son. Elrohir didn’t even flinch at his father’s tone. 

“There’s no use fighting, my lady,” Elladan piped up from behind his brother. “Besides, you need your rest.” 

“I’m - fine – meddling – elves-” she growled, still trying to get out of Elrohir’s grasp.  

Sighing, Elrond covered his eyes. “Take her to the Eastern wing.” 

Elrohir and Elladan grinned and took off into Rivendell, a still-complaining Arya in his arms.  

“Children,” Elrond murmured, watching his sons run off with his niece.  _His niece!_   

“Ahh, yes. Brings joy to the heart, does it not?” Gandalf piped up, watching the three disappear with a smile. 

“I believe it’s time that we be on our way,” Thorin cut in coldly. 

Elrond’s left eyebrow quirked itself into a perfect point. “Nonsense Thorin, son of Thrain. You and your company will rest here. Lindir!” 

A different dark-haired elf appeared and bowed before Elrond. “Escort our guests to the Western courtyard. Make sure they are given whatever supplies they need. Thorin Oakenshield,” Elrond turned to look at him appraisingly, “I will send for you later, after you rest. We have much to discuss.” 

Lindir bowed again and motioned for the dwarves to follow him. Bilbo started after him immediately, and it was only after a rather lengthy staring contest with Gandalf that Thorin motioned for the rest of the dwarves to follow after the pair. 

“Mithrandir,” Elrond spoke quietly as the dwarves walked away, “I need to speak to you, my friend.” 

Gandalf motioned for Elrond to lead the way and watched, with a sigh, as the dwarves disappeared from view. 

\-- 

Elrond, Elrohir, Elladan and Arwen all looked at Gandalf with frowns on their faces. The twins had returned from escorting Arya to the Eastern wing only a few minutes earlier, happily reporting that she had, in fact, fallen asleep the moment she laid down across the bed. Arwen had been waiting for the others in Elrond’s chambers, and, upon hearing Gandalf’s tale of the events as they had passed, had fallen into silence along with the rest of her family.  

Elrond finally spoke, breaking the silence in the room. “I do not like this, Gandalf.” 

“Believe me, I can sympathize, my lord,” Gandalf replied quietly. “But the actions of Iluvatar are not ours to question.” 

“But to be brought here? For this purpose? It is too dangerous for her.” 

“I believe that Arya Callahan knows exactly what she has gotten herself into, travelling with the dwarves.” Gandalf’s gaze grew kindly as Elrond’s eyes met his. “I do not feel that her fate lies with the elves,  _mellon_ _nin_. She will not follow in the footsteps of her mother.” 

“And when they reach the end of this quest? What will become of her then?” 

“Who among us can truly say what the future holds?” Gandalf shrugged. “She appeared amongst us when she did and where she did for a reason. No matter how much we may like to protect her, we cannot get in the way of her fate.” 

Elrond fell back against his chair, sighing. He took in the concerned gazes of his children and nodded. “You are right, of course. But she is family, and we will do all we can to help her before they travel on. He would have my head, otherwise.” 

"And he still might,” Elladan added in rather unhelpfully. 

Gandalf’s eyes just twinkled at the family before him. “With Miss Callahan standing in his way? I would like to see him try.” 

\-- 

Arya had honestly meant to stay awake and explore the Eastern wing, but the minute her head hit the pillow of the feathery-bed in her temporary quarters she’d fallen asleep. Having not gotten any sleep the night before – because  _TROLLS_  - she couldn’t stay annoyed with herself when she finally awoke to the sound of rapping on the door. The setting sun was streaming in through the windows of her quarters, but its light was nothing compared to the brightness of the smile owned by the lady who walked in the room. 

“I apologize for interrupting your rest,” she spoke softly, “but if you slept any longer you were bound to miss the feast.” 

Arya, whose brain still wasn’t firing on all cylinders, just gaped at her.  “Yeah, no, it’s fine – who are you?” 

The lady bowed her head towards Arya. “I am Arwen - " 

“Arwen Undómiel, in whom it was said that the likeness of Luthien had come on earth again, and she was called Undomiel, for she was the Evenstar of her people,” Arya gasped out in a rush. She jumped off the bed, sweeping into a curtsy. “It is such an honor, I’m such a huge fan -”  

“And it is an honor to meet you Arya Callahan, daughter of Elbereth,” Arwen replied with a warm smile. “Do not concern yourself with formalities around me, dear cousin.” 

_Cousin._ Arya stumbled back onto the bed, suddenly feeling light-headed. “Cousin. Right.” 

Crossing the threshold of the room, Arwen made her way over to the bed and sat down next to Arya. Taking Arya’s hand in her own, she rubbed it comfortingly. “You have been through much during your short time here. We have much to discuss, and I look forward to it greatly. But for now, you must get ready for dinner.” 

\-- 

“Okay, that shampoo was amazing,” Arya ran a hand through her curls, now soft, bouncy, clean, and completely unlike the dirt-drenched braid that she’d worn upon her arrival. “Do you think I could get some of that in a to-go bottle?” 

Arwen cleared her throat, and Arya turned to face her in time to see a small smile on her lips. “Mother spoke in much the same way as I recall. Father never could understand her colloquialisms. Have the dwarves had any problem understanding you?” 

“They might, if they actually talked to me.” 

Arwen’s expression became pained for a moment. “I am sorry, Arya.” 

Waving it off, Arya moved to running her hands down the bodice of her dress and examining her reflection in the mirror. “Don’t worry about it. I'm used to it by now.” 

This time, the pained look on Arwen’s face stayed far longer, but Arya didn’t notice. “I can’t believe you just had this laying around!” Arya exclaimed, spinning in front of the mirror. It was a relatively simple cut, much like the other medieval-like dresses she’d seen worn by the female elves who helped her bathe (begrudgingly on her part), but the material was a shimmery off-white with silver embroidery. 

“It was my mother’s,” Arwen laughed lightly. “Father never could understand her fascination with ornate clothing.” 

At that Arya snorted, turning to look at Arwen who was resplendent in a deep purple gown. “Well, it looks like it runs in the family.” 

Arwen looked at her coolly for a moment before they both burst out laughing. 

“Come,” Arwen said holding out her hand, “let’s join the others at the feast.” 

\-- 

To say the atmosphere at the feast was tense was a severe understatement. 

For one, Thorin had been separated from the rest of the company upon their arrival, being forcibly seated by Gandalf at the head table with said wizard, Elrond, two other dark-haired elves he’d introduced to Thorin as his sons, and a bevy of Elrond’s advisors. Not only was he separated from his kin, he was surrounded by elves dressed in finery playing various stringed instruments that, while probably seen as delicate and lovely to the elves’ sensibilities, just served to give Thorin a headache. And to top it all off, there was no meat in sight! 

From his flickering glances across the hall to his company, Thorin surmised that they must have had the same grievances. Thorin watched with some amusement as Dwalin angrily stabbed at the leaves on his plate, while Oin just looked disappointed. The only one happy with the meal was Bilbo, who continued to scoop some sort of liquid onto his plate, dipping the leaves into it. 

Another plate was set down in front of Thorin. Grimacing, he nodded at the elf in thanks. 

He heard Gandalf cough suspiciously, and fought the urge to dump his pile of leaves on the wizard’s head. 

“How fares your company, Thorin Oakenshield?” Elrond asked, taking a sip of whatever was in his goblet. 

“Well,” Thorin replied with a nod. The table fell into an uncomfortable silence once again, and Thorin ignored Gandalf’s glare, opting to shove some of the leaves into his mouth instead. 

“Finally,” one of the twins exclaimed loudly. Jumping away from the table, he raced behind the seated group. 

“Excuse us,” the other replied, following after his brother. 

Frowning, Thorin turned to watch them race across the hall and come to a stop in front of the open archway. 

They bowed in sync, a figure stepped into the doorway, and Thorin suddenly found that he wasn’t hungry anymore. 

“Welcome, Lady Callahan.” 

\-- 

Arya fell back into Arwen as Elladan and Elrohir bowed before her, identical cheeky grins on their identical faces. 

“Good Lord, don’t startle me like that!” She scolded, slapping Elrohir on the arm. 

He just grinned, grabbing hold of her hand and kissing it gently. “You are as radiant as the stars in the sky - “ 

“ - as lovely as the last rose of summer - “ 

“ - as fair as the dew upon the grass - “ 

“ - and as annoyed as your father is with you right now,” Arya interrupted the twins. She wrenched her hand out of Elrohir’s grasp, only to be grabbed around the waist by Elladan and maneuvered into a seat at the table in the center of the room, past a table of gaping dwarves. “I know this may come as a shock to you, but I’m fully capable of moving on my own.” 

“It’s for your own protection,” Elladan said, patting her hand in a condescending manner. 

“Protection? From what?” 

Elrohir leaned across the table and began to whisper loudly. “I do not know if you’ve heard, but there have been sightings of dwarves in the area.” 

“Yes,” Elladan added in, “one must be on their guard at all times.” 

Arya just groaned in reply, dropping her head into her hands. 

“No, don’t do that, my lady!” 

“Yes, how else are we to gaze upon your beautiful countenance?” 

“Speaking of, what is that dirt upon your face?” Elladan asked. He was somehow able to reach all the way across the table. His hand got dangerously close to her eyes, and she slapped it away. 

“What are you doing?” 

“There’s dirt on your face, my lady.” 

“I thought Arwen was to see to your dressing for the feast,” Elrohir commented, glancing at his sister as she made her way over to their table. 

“She did, and it’s not dirt!” Arya slapped Elladan’s hand away again. “It’s just make-up.” 

“Make-up?” Elrohir repeated, looking at his brother quizzically.  

“Yes,” Arya replied sternly, reaching for her glass. “It’s quite common back home.” 

“What’s its purpose?” 

“A beauty-enhancer.” 

“Then it serves you no purpose,” Elladan grinned at her, “for you are the most beautiful mortal I’ve ever laid my eyes upon.” 

Sighing, Arya took a large drink of what she desperately hoped was wine. “First of all, you can lay off the flattery now. And second of all, I wear it because I like it, it makes me feel pretty, and unlike the rest of you, I actually have pores that I need to worry about.” 

Elrohir leaned towards his brother, eyes still locked on Arya. “Do you understand what she’s saying?” He asked in a mock-whisper. 

“Not at all.”  

Arya petulantly threw a small tomato at Elrohir and felt much better afterwards. 

\-- 

“ - repeat my question?” 

“Hmm?” Thorin hummed, turning back to face Elrond. “I’m sorry?” 

“Yes, it appears your attention was elsewhere,” Elrond spoke coolly, his eyes flickering in Arya’s direction. 

Thorin felt his face flush. It was true, his attention had been on her since she joined the feast, but not for the reasons Elrond was probably thinking. Yes, she was lovely and her dress sparkled like the veins of mithril that ran through his mountain, but it was the actions of the rambunctious elves that caught his attention. It was appalling, and no member of his company should behave in such a fashion. 

Not that she was a member of his company. 

Maybe she’d stay with the elves, after all. 

It would be for the best. 

Truly. 

“ - lost your attention again, master dwarf.” 

A sharp kick from Gandalf’s foot drew Thorin back from his thoughts. “Apologies, Lord Elrond,” he replied, glaring at Gandalf. “I am afraid I am tired from our travels.” 

“We will keep our conversation short, then. Lindir, send for the wine.” 

Frowning, Thorin leaned towards Gandalf. “How short is short?” 

“Only three more hours or so.” 

Thorin groaned, and Gandalf smirked at him while he did so. 

\-- 

Arwen finally took pity on Arya’s plight, and while she was reprimanding her brothers about their manners – or lack thereof – during the feast, Arya snuck off and made her way back towards her chambers. 

Night had fallen all at once, and she walked slowly through the gilded passageways, lost in thought as she gazed up at the stars.  _I wish grandpa could see this,_ she thought to herself.  _I’ve never seen them shine so bright. He would have loved it._  

It was the sound of the company that stirred her from the doldrums of her mind. She paused, concentrating on the voices as they passed by underneath her. 

“ - can’t say I fancy elf maids myself. Too thin.” 

“All high cheekbones and creamy skin.” 

“Aye, not enough facial hair for me.” 

Rolling her eyes, Arya was about to resume her stroll when something caught the corner of her eye.  _No way._  

But there it was. Sitting in the far corner of a small alcove off the side of this corridor, covered with a thin layer of dust, was a record player – and not just any record player. It was an exact replica of the record player her grandfather had held in a place of honor in their home. 

She crept towards the corner cautiously, still disbelieving her eyes. Coming to a stop in front of the record player, she sunk onto the ground and leaned her back against the chair that sat across from it. The record player was still in front of her eyes, so clearly, this wasn’t a mirage. 

Stretching her hand towards it slowly, she gently lifted the cover off of the machine. A record was still inside, although any label that might have been on it had worn off by now.  

Arya pressed another button, and the record began to spin. She moved the needle over to the top of the record, and crackling music filled the small room. 

“ _B_ _eautiful girl, you’re a lovely picture, beautiful girl, you’re a gorgeous mixture of all that lies under the big blue skies - “_  

_“Grandpa!” Arya giggled as she was swept up into his arms. He just continued to sing, pressing a kiss against her forehead as they whirled around the kitchen._  

_“What can I do, but give my heart to you?”_  

The record cut off and Arya was immediately jolted from her memories. Her face felt wet. Reaching up, she rubbed her fingers against her cheeks and found that she was, in fact, crying.  

The record continued to spin soundlessly. She lifted the needle, and the record slowly came to a stop.  

“There’s more, you know,” a quiet voice spoke. Arya whipped around at the sound of the voice and found herself facing Arwen. 

“Sorry, I - “ 

“Do not apologize,  _ettani_. It does my heart well to hear those songs again.” Arwen stepped slowly into the room and sat on the divan across from Arya. “Mother used to listen to them when she missed home.” 

Arya nodded, wiping more tears away from her face. “That record - those songs – they were some of his favorites. I never – I didn’t think I’d ever hear them again. It’s a nice surprise.” 

At her words Arwen’s eyes grew thoughtful. “Your life here will continue to do so.” 

“Do what?” 

“Surprise you.” 

“I’m sorry,” Arya shook her head, “I’m confused.” 

“There are many worlds, Arya, and there are many seers who live in them. I, myself, have the gift of sight. Most seers are limited to the world in which they inhabit, but some are not.” 

Arya frowned, eyes locked on Arwen. “I still don’t think I understand. Why are you telling me this?” 

“You were familiar with us, with our story, before you came here,” Arwen spoke decisively. 

“Well, yes - “ 

“And have we, has this world, adhered to that story?” 

“So far, I guess - “ 

“Then I wish to offer you counsel, counsel that my father once gave my mother many, many years ago, in an age far before this one.” Arwen’s gaze grew kind, but distant. “Seers only see one version of events as they unfolded, and there are more possibilities in life than can ever be predicted.” 

“So, what you’re saying is, is that the story I know might not end up being the reality here?” Arya spoke slowly. 

“That is correct,” Arwen nodded. “I do not wish for you to carry the burden of expectations for events that may never come to pass.” 

Arya leaned her head back, exhaling slowly. “Thanks,” she finally replied, her voice low. “I hadn’t even thought of that, but – thanks.” 

Arwen’s smile grew wide again. “I am happy to ease your mind whenever you need it,  _ettani_ _._ Would you care to return to your room for the evening?” 

“Well,” Arya’s eyes flickered back to the record player. “I might stay here a bit longer, if that’s okay.” 

Nodding, Arwen stood and held out her hand to Arya. “Come with me. I know where father keeps the rest of the music.” 

\-- 

“Our business is no concern of the elves,” Thorin spat, turning his fiercest stare back on Gandalf. The wizard had followed Thorin out of the feast, berating him for his unwillingness to divulge any more information about their quest with Elrond. 

Gandalf, however, was completely unfazed. “For goodness’ sake, Thorin, show him the map!” 

“It is the legacy of my people,” he spoke through gritted teeth. “It is mine to protect, as are its secrets.” 

“We are here in the presence of the only one who can read your map, and you would turn away his aid!” 

"I do not desire the aid of the elves, and I never will!” Thorin stalked away from Gandalf as fast as his legs could carry him. 

“Save me from the stubbornness of dwarves,” Gandalf murmured before hollering after Thorin. “Your pride will be your downfall!”  

Thorin didn’t reply. 

\-- 

He wasn’t sure how long he walked, or in what direction he was headed. The burning fire in his heart fueled his steps, and by the time he had walked long enough for him to see the reason in Gandalf’s words, he had no idea where he was. 

Sighing, Thorin stopped walking and began to rub his fingers against his temple.  _Excellent work as usual, T_ _horin, son of_ _Thrain_ _._  

A faint sound broke through Thorin’s self-abnegation. Frowning, he turned to face the direction it was coming from and began to walk towards it. 

It was music,  _that_ he could easily discern. But it sounded faded somewhat, and the masculine voice singing was masked by a sort of sound he’d never heard before. 

His steps took him closer to the sound, and as he drew closer, he was able to more closely discern the words.  

“ -  _I could speak to my heart when it wakened, but my heart won’t listen now - “_  

Thorin rounded a corner and came to an abrupt stop. 

He was in some sort of small alcove off of the main corridor. The alcove was lined with shelves holding tomes of various sizes and colors, and a small divan was placed in the center of the room, facing a small, roaring fireplace and a box that it appeared the sound was coming out of.  

“ -  _like Samson without his hair - “_  

Brow furrowed, he crept slowly into the room, closer and closer to the box. He glanced at the divan and halted immediately. 

Arya was lying on her side, arms underneath her head, eyelids shut. Thorin moved closer to her, looking for signs of consciousness. “Miss Callahan?” 

Her only answer was a soft, slow exhale of breath.  

“ _-_ _I might as well surrender for the battle can’t be won - “_  

The box continued to play its music. Clearly, whatever it was, it wasn’t keeping her awake. 

Thorin stepped backwards, about to leave the room, when he noticed a folded-up blanket on one of the shelves. He deliberated only for a few moments before grabbing the blanket and walking back towards the divan, draping it over Arya’s sleeping form. 

“ -  _bein_ _’ miserable is_ _gonna_ _be fun - “_  

The song ended as Thorin turned away from Arya, only to find himself facing Lord Elrond. The elf lord must have arrived sometime after he’d decided to gather the blanket, and Thorin steeled his resolve as the elf examined him with an expression Thorin could not place. 

Elrond held out his hand, and Thorin exited the alcove, walking with him as a new song began to play. The two men walked in silence until Thorin could no longer hear the music. 

“What are your intentions with Arya Callahan?”  

“To leave her behind.” 

Elrond looked slightly surprised by his answer, but he masked it quickly, turning to meet Thorin’s gaze. “I do not think that would be wise.” 

“I can think of no action wiser,” Thorin replied quickly. “She is unprepared for the hardship that lies ahead, and I do not want her blood on my hands.” 

A soft smile came to Elrond’s face, causing Thorin’s own to wear a mask of confusion. “The choice does not lie with you, I’m afraid. No matter how much both you and I may wish otherwise. You will need her before your journey’s end.” 

“Why do I feel like you know something you are not telling me?” 

Elrond glanced away from Thorin, his left eyebrow quirked. “Because I do, of course.” 

Thorin scowled, shaking his head at the elf. Elrond ignored him and stepped to the side, pointing towards a familiar encampment. “You will find the rest of your company there.”  

He stepped forward without a second glance but then paused, turning to look at Elrond over his shoulder. “Who is she?” 

“Someone you and your men need, Master Oakenshield. And someone that you and your men do not deserve.” Elrond bowed and disappeared into the shadows behind him, leaving Thorin with nothing but his thoughts – and his unending annoyance with elves. 

\-- 

Arya found herself waking up just as dawn broke. The record player had stopped spinning long before, but the fire was still burning in the fireplace, and a warm blanket had been draped across her shoulders sometime in the night. 

Groaning, she pushed herself into a sitting position, and blinked, only to find Elladan and Elrohir grinning at her from up above. 

Squawking, she rolled off of the divan and onto the ground with a wince. “Ow.” 

“Good morning, Lady Callahan!” 

She groaned again, rubbing at her eyes. “It’s too early.” 

“On the contrary, it is just the right time.” 

“The right time for what?” She asked, opening her eyes to see the twins beaming at her maniacally.  

\-- 

“Is all this really necessary?” she grumbled, rearranging her tunic as Elladan pushed her through the dining hall. 

“Arya!” She heard Bilbo’s yell her name. She turned just as Elladan walked her past the table of dwarves – and Bilbo – breakfasting. “How did you sleep?” 

Most of the dwarves were looking at her disinterestedly, but Thorin – Thorin was staring at Bilbo instead, his shoulders stiff. “I - “ 

“No time for talking, I’m afraid,” Elrohir interrupted Arya, grabbing a plate off of their table. "We have work to do.” 

“Work? What work?” She replied, struggling to stop Elladan from moving forward. 

“Archery training!” 

“Archery training?” Arya squeaked. 

“Of course!” Elladan smirked. “Do you really think we’d leave your safety to the dwarves?” 

Dwalin slammed his fist down on the table. “ **Namin** **men** **burk** **!** _”_ He growled, turning to glare at the twins. 

“ **Tatkuti** _,_ Dwalin,” Thorin murmured.  

Elrohir just winked at Dwalin before scooping up a still protesting Arya into his arms and exiting the dining hall, Elladan on his heels. 

Bifur began shouting in Khuzdul and Bofur winced, attempting to get him to speak in a more civilized octave. Bilbo looked utterly flummoxed, and the brothers Ri were whispering amongst each other. Gloin was muttering furiously to Oin, and Balin was looking at Thorin expectantly. The only one seemingly not upset by the interaction was Bombur, who continued to fill his plate with some sort of fruit-filled pastry. 

“We don’t need to stand for this, Thorin,” Dwalin spat as he watched the elves exit the room. 

“I agree,” he replied calmly. “Fili! Kili!” 

The brothers, who were seated at the far end of the table and had been openly gaping at the twins snapped to attention. They jumped up and nodded in sync at Thorin. “At your service." 

Thorin nodded his head towards the door. “Keep an eye on our healer. Make sure they don’t teach her poorly.” 

Fili gaped at his uncle’s request. Kili, on the other hand, whooped loudly and raced out of the hall, dragging a still shocked Fili after him.  

“Ya can’t be serious,” Dwalin snorted, turning to face Thorin. At the expression on Thorin’s face, Dwalin’s grew incredulous. “You’re not, are ya?” 

“Balin,” Thorin turned to his advisor, pointedly ignoring his brother – and the rest of the men at the table. “Bring me the map after breakfast. We must speak with Elrond.” 

“Of course, your majesty,” Balin replied with a large smile.  

Nodding, Thorin focused his attention back on his meal, not seeing the all-too-satisfied expression on Balin’s face. 

\-- 

“Have you handled a bow before?” Elrohir asked. 

“Bows on Christmas presents, yes,” Arya huffed. 

Elrohir turned his head over his shoulder and called something out to Elladan, who was currently rummaging around their weapons guild. “We’ll start with something easy then,” he said, turning back to Arya. 

“I’m not going to be able to do this.” 

“You will, if you find a better attitude. Besides,” Elrohir continued, “I will rest better knowing you are capable of handling yourself.” 

She furrowed her brow as she stared at him. “You do realize I’m not going to master this in a week.” 

“We don’t expect you to,” Elladan replied, returning from the guild with a small bow and several arrows in tow. “We just hope to train you to hold your enemy off long enough for help to arrive.” 

“Help?” 

“Your dwarves,” Elrohir supplied. 

Arya chuckled sadly. “So I’d be waiting forever then.” 

Elladan walked over to her, blocking her view of Elrohir, who in turn glanced up at the Western terrace and grinned at the two dwarves so obviously attempting – and failing – to hide in his father’s ferns. 

“I think,” his gaze dropped back to Arya, “that you may be mistaken.” 

\-- 

The arrow flew to the left of the target for the seventh time in a row. 

“AUGH!” 

“You’re getting better, it just takes time.” 

“Besides, you aren’t firing them into the ground anymore. That’s a definite improvement.” 

Fili leaned in close to his brother. “I don’t think that’s helping.” 

Kili just continued to shake his head as he watched. “Her limbs aren’t as long as theirs. They’re not counting for the necessary readjustment.” 

“If you think you can do better, master dwarf,” one of the elves yelled up to him, “then why don’t you assist us?” 

Fili watched as his brother grinned wildly. “Kili, wait - “ 

There was no point in trying to stop him; his brother had leapt down the stairs before the words were out of Fili’s mouth. 

\-- 

“How did our healer fare?” Thorin asked Fili and Kili as they made their way to dinner that night. 

“Well, once she started hitting the target.” 

“The elves didn’t have a bow that fit her size,” Kili cut in quickly. “She did much better with mine. I believe they’re making her one for our travels.” 

Fili scoffed. “You don’t think she’ll continue to travel with us now, do you?” 

Thorin didn’t reply. He just continued into the dining hall, leaving stunned nephews in his wake. Fili and Kili turned to face each other quickly. 

“You don’t think - “ 

“No - “ 

They whirled back towards their uncle’s retreating figure. “Thorin, wait!” 

\-- 

Arya was sore, exhausted, and almost face-planted into her salad that night after a long day of training. Arwen was kind enough to escort her from the dining hall, and she was only a few feet from her chambers when Elrond caught up with them. 

“Arya, if I may have a moment?” 

“Of course,” she replied quickly. “Thank you for walking with me,” she said to Arwen. 

Arwen curtsied, smiling at her. “Until tomorrow,  _ettani_ _.”_ With that, Arwen turned to make her way back towards the dining hall, and Arya was left alone with Elrond. 

“It seems you will only be in our presence a few days longer, should you continue to travel with Thorin Oakenshield’s company.” 

“That’s more than I expected,” she replied with a sigh. “I will certainly miss it here – although I won’t miss trying to wrangle your sons into behaving.” 

Elrond smiled fondly at her, and the two began to walk back down the corridor. “You are welcome to remain here, should you so choose. I do not believe anyone in the company would begrudge you that choice.” 

Arya sighed deeply, turning to look outside, at Rivendell clothed only in the light of the stars. “I wish I could. But I have to go.” 

“I know you do,” Elrond replied quietly, drawing Arya’s attention – and gaze – back to him. “Which is why I wished to speak with you of this now. 

“Your purpose is more than this quest, Arya,” he continued softly. “I do not know how you understand god or the creator to be, but he would not bring you here just to serve the company of Thorin Oakenshield and fade away once it was done. Your fate is greater than this journey to Erebor.” 

“Well, what else could it be?” Arya asked, brow furrowed. 

“That is something you must find for yourself. You will know when you do.” 

She snorted, shaking her head. “You sure are fond of riddles, aren’t you?” 

“An eccentricity of immortality. I believe that is the excuse I gave my wife as well.” 

That caused Arya to laugh, and Elrond himself found a smile coming to his lips. “I promised you her story, did I not?” 

At Arya’s nod, he gestured her to sit on one of the benches lining the Eastern corridor’s walls. “We believe Iluvatar exists outside of time itself, which would explain why your kin arrived here several hundred years ago and you arrived now. It is from his will that this was made possible. 

“Your aunt – and mother – had been in middle-earth for some time before I met them. It was strange; I had never encountered mortal women living in the woods of Lorien before. But Galadriel, the Lady of the Golden Wood, had taken them in upon their arrival, and loved them both like they were her own. 

“I fell in love with your aunt the moment I laid eyes on her.” Arya watched as Elrond’s gaze grew distant, as if he was no longer existing in this moment with her. “She was passionate of spirit, adored by the people of Lorien,” his voice grew soft, “and she cared for all she met with all her heart. 

“We were married within a month of our meeting.” 

“Really?” Arya gasped quietly.  

“Yes,” he smiled, eyes still gazing into the past. “We both knew, I think, that this was the fate’s design. And on our wedding day, we were gifted with visions of the Valar, who granted her – and her sister – immortality.” 

“The Valar?” 

“Servants of Iluvatar who watch over the earth and its people. They live far beyond the West, in the realms which only the dead can walk. They do not visit middle-earth merely to satisfy whims. Their purpose is always great here, and it was through the will of Varda, Queen of the Valar herself, that this was done. 

“For two ages Celebrian lived in Rivendell,” Elrond’s voice grew faint again. “Darkness grew in the West, and evil began to spread, but my family and my kin across our lands lived in harmony with one another. 

“But then Sauron, a servant of Morgoth, grew too strong in his power, and the time of peace was over. 

“A last alliance of the free races of middle-earth marched on Mount Doom, on his homeland.” Elrond turned to look at her. “You are familiar with the stories of the ring.” 

Arya nodded quickly, trying to suppress her shivers. “You could say that.” 

“Isilduir was not the only one who fell that day. Celebrian could not be convinced to stay in Rivendell. She would not be separated from her family, from her sister – from me. She fought valiantly, but the forces of Sauron proved to be too much.” 

Elrond fell silent. Arya stared at him, shaking her head back and forth. “What happened?” 

“She was stabbed through the heart by a Morgul blade, a blow dealt by the Witch-King of Angmar.” Elrond’s voice began to quiver. “Her wound was mortal. She was doomed to die.” 

He began to smile sadly. “But her sister wouldn’t allow it. 

“In Celebrian’s dying hour, Elbereth called upon the Valar, that her grace may be extended to the sister that she loved dearly. Your mother,” Elrond’s eyes met Arya’s, “saved her life. 

“In exchange, the Valar deemed that Celebrian, along with Elbereth, must either travel into the West or both pass into the next world, a place neither I nor Elbereth’s family would be able to follow. They left on the next ship to Valinor, never to return to these lands. 

“Their families were left behind, to remain in middle-earth until the coming of the fourth age, when we may finally be reunited with them.” Elrond’s voice grew desolate. “It has been many years since my children and I have beheld her face outside of our dreams. Our alliances with the other realms of elves have suffered because of their absence. I do not think your mother’s family has ever truly forgiven mine for what they deem as their loss.” 

Arya’s head was spinning. “Wait, wait, my mother’s family? She had a family here?” 

Elrond nodded solemnly. “Yes.” 

“Who?"  

Elrond’s eyes crinkled in reply. “I would not rob her husband of their story. It is not mine to tell.” 

“Husband. Husband?” Arya practically shrieked. “So I technically have a stepfather?” 

The elf lord was fully grinning now. “Yes, he’ll love that thought.” 

Groaning, Arya dropped her head into her hands. “I could really use some wine.” 

Reaching around, Elrond patted her arm comfortingly. “That can be arranged.” 

\-- 

Two glasses of elven wine later, Elrond escorted a much calmer – and still exhausted - Arya back towards her quarters. “Thanks for the wine, and the talk. And I’m sorry about Aunt Anna,” she muttered, blinking as the walls spun around her. 

Grabbing hold of her arm, Elrond steadied her. “Don’t be, my dear. It is because of your mother I will see her again someday. It is that knowledge that gives me something to live for.” 

They came to a stop in front of Arya’s room. Arya wrapped her arms around Elrond in a sudden hug and squeezed. “Thank you,” she murmured before releasing him and sweeping into her room. 

Elrond watched her go, a small smile on his face. He turned from her chambers, making his way towards the small alcove she occupied yesterday. Coming to a stop in front of the fireplace, he reached behind one of the shelves on the left wall, pulled out a small picture frame, and gazed at the portrait of his wife smiling back at him. 

“She’ll be just fine. I believe that.” 

\-- 

Arya winced, stretching her muscles. She’d spent all of the last two days doing target practice with the twins – and Kili – and she was about ready to tear her own arms off if it meant they would stop hurting. 

“Stand by the gray stone when the thrush knocks, and the setting sun with the last light of Durin's Day will shine upon the keyhole,” Elrond read out loud. The company had gathered in a room high above the city of Rivendell, listening as Elrond translated the moon runes hidden on Thorin’s map of Erebor. 

“Durin’s Day?” She heard Bilbo ask Gandalf. 

“It is the start of the dwarves' near year, when the last moon of autumn and the first sun of winter appear in the sky together.” 

"This is ill news,” Thorin spoke solemnly. “Summer is passing. Durin's day will soon be upon us.” 

“Are you all right, lassie?” Arya startled and turned to find Oin looking at her, a concerned look on his face. 

“Just sore. Thanks, though.” 

“Take some of this. It should help with the pain.” He held out a bottle of – well, she wasn’t sure quite what it was, but she took a large gulp of it anyways. 

“We still have time,” Balin spoke up. 

“Time?” Bilbo asked. “For what?" 

“To find the entrance. We have to be standing at exactly the right spot at exactly the right time. Then, and only then, can the door be opened.” 

"You truly mean to open the mountain? To risk the curse of the dragon-sickness?” Elrond’s gaze zeroed in on Thorin’s. 

Thorin stiffened under Elrond’s eyes. “For my people, I would risk it all.” 

Elrond stood silently for a moment. The next words out of his mouth shocked the dwarves. 

“The White Council convenes here tomorrow morning. Gandalf and I will meet with the others and keep them occupied. That is when you will take your leave of us. I will send for Lindir; he will supply everything you need.” 

The dwarves just stood there for a moment, staring at Elrond in shock. “You are dismissed.” 

With that, the dwarves scampered off, heading back towards their encampment to pack up. Thorin was the last of the dwarves to leave, and for a brief moment Arya caught his eyes looking at her. 

He turned and was out the door before she could blink. 

“Arya? Are you all right?” She turned to look at Bilbo and smiled. 

“Yes. I’m just sad our visit here has to end so soon.” 

Elrond stepped across the room and embraced her. “You are always welcome here,  _Aredhiel_ _._ We will see each other again. I am certain of it.” 

\-- 

“You have your bag?” 

“Yes - “ 

“Your bow?” 

“Your arrows?” 

“A change of clothing?” 

“Food?” 

“Yes, yes, yes and yes!” Arya laughed at the twins. Elladan and Elrohir hadn’t left her side since she emerged from her chambers before dawn. “I’ve got it, I promise.” 

“They are just worried about you. We all are,” Arwen smiled sadly, stepping into the courtyard. She was followed by Gilraen and a ranger that Arya didn’t recognize. “Be safe on your journey,  _thelnin_ _.”_  

Arya stepped into Arwen’s outstretched arms and hugged her tightly. “I’ll see you soon.” Stepping back, she nodded at Gilraen. “Thanks again for your help.” 

“We remain at your service, my lady,” he said, sweeping into a bow. “If it were not for our friend Strider, we would be happy to follow you on your journey.” 

Freezing in place, Arya’s gaze flickered to that of the young dark-haired man standing next to Arwen. “Strider?”  _OH MY GOD OH MY GOD OH MY GOD -_  

He bowed to her. “An honor to meet you, my lady.”  _OH MY GOD ARAGORN CALLED ME “MY LADY” -_  

“We are taking him to the northern Numenorean settlement for a short visit,” Gilraen continued, ignoring Arya’s shock. “If we do not leave now, we will not make it back before winter.” 

“I understand,” she forced out much too quickly, eyes flickering back to Gilraen. “Be safe on your journey, both of you.” 

A loud whinny interrupted Gilraen. Arya turned to find Eldrin leading Roheryn into the courtyard. “Excuse me,” she nodded to the group. 

Roheryn came to a stop right in front of her and huffed loudly in her face. 

“I know,” she said, stroking his nose, “but you can't come with me right now. We’re going to be travelling on foot for a while.” 

Roheryn stomped on the ground, whinnying again. “I’ll send for you as soon as I can, I promise.” 

The steed huffed again, but this time Arya felt in her bones like it was a huff of acceptance. Patting him gently on the nose, she kissed him quickly. “I’ll miss you too, Roheryn.” 

“Arya!” She turned around in time to see Bilbo stepping into the courtyard. “We’re leaving!” 

She nodded at him in acknowledgment. Giving Roheryn one last squeeze, she quickly thanked Eldrin before making her way back to Arwen and the twins. Elladan was the first to sweep her up into his arms, Elrohir following suit soon after. 

“You will be safe?” Elrohir said, watching as Elladan slipped quietly towards the dwarves. 

“I will, I promise,” she replied, oblivious to Elladan’s actions. 

\-- 

Thorin looked up from his packing just in time to see one of the twins walking straight towards him. Balin, catching Thorin’s expression, attempted to waylay the elf, but to no avail. 

“Excuse me, Lord Elladan - ” 

“Should any harm befall her, I will have your head,” Elladan addressed Thorin, stopping only inches away from the dwarf. 

He could hear the rumblings of his dwarves. Dwalin, he noted, picked up his axe and began to shine it with unabashed interest. 

Balin tried to speak again. “Laddie, I believe - “ 

“Understood.” 

The dwarves fell silent. Even Dwalin stopped polishing his axe, turning his surprised gaze on Thorin instead. 

The elf nodded once before turning on his heel and stalking away.  

Thorin watched as the elf disappeared back into the courtyard before realizing that the company was still staring at him. “Gather your things,” he barked. “It is time we left the valley of the elves.” 

\-- 

“I, for one, will miss the elves,” Bilbo whispered to Arya. She’d been turning to look at Rivendell at every possible instance, and the Hidden Valley had at last vanished from sight. 

“Me too,” she replied, a sad smile on her face. “Me too. But it’s not forever.” She turned to look at Bilbo and shot him a comforting smile. “It’s just until next time.” 

“Hmm," Bilbo hummed to himself. “Until next time. I like that.” 

_Me too, Bilbo Baggins. Me too._  


	10. On the Road Again

They’d only been travelling for about thirty minutes, and Arya had had it.

“ Hold on, we need to pause for a minute!” Arya hollered as she turned around and ran  into the woods .

“Arya? Where are you going?” Bilbo called after her. She just grumbled in reply, something about “stupid skirts” and “stupid elves” and “stupid patriarchal fashion trends”.

Dwalin  collided with Bilbo. “What is it now, burglar?”

“Miss Arya ran off into the woods,” Ori supplied helpfully.

Growling,  Dwalin  pushed past Bilbo. “We don’t have time for this. Miss Callahan! Either you’re coming with us now or you’re not coming at –  _ what in Mahal’s name are you wearing _ ?!”

\--

Arya stepped back onto the path, shoving her dress into the bag. “Sorry, I didn’t quite catch that. What were you saying?” She looked up to find  _ all  _ of the dwarves staring at her, all various shades of red-faced.

She glanced down.  _ Right. Leggings.  _ She’d left Rivendell clad in what Arwen assured her was a proper travelling dress, but after having tripped over the hemline seven times since they’d left Rivendell, Arya had decided to give up on propriety and go for comfort. Thankfully, all of things from her packed duffel bag had somehow magically fit into the pack from Aunt Anna, and she’d been able to quickly change into a pair of black, fleece-lined exercise leggings, a hooded dark gray blazer, her white knit scarf and her Terrain H20 hiking boots that she’d gotten when she and  her ex  Chad had gone through their “outdoors” phase.

_ Think, Arya! _ _  Do you really want to have this conversation about the oppression of patriarchal society on female self-expression via clothing right now?  _

_ “ _ Oh, these?” She asked, sticking out her boots. “They’re super comfy. Perfect for all of this walking we’re about to do.” Readjusting her pack on her back, she got back on the trail and started walking. “You boys coming or what?”

She heard the sound of the swearing coming from behind her and grinned.

“What sort of pants are those?” Bilbo gasped, racing to catch up with her. She was now out in front, with the dwarves still straggling behind her.

“They’re called leggings, and they’re super warm and comfy and don’t allow for chafing when travelling long distances.”

“But - but - “

“Cute, right?”

Bilbo coughed loudly. “Yes - well – I don’t think I can properly be the judge of that.” She looked down and saw he was flushed bright red. “They’re a little, well, tight, don’t you think?”

“I guess,” Arya shrugged, biting down on her tongue to keep herself from laughing. “My sweater covers my butt though, so we’re fine on the modesty front.”

Bilbo started actually choking, his face turning all sorts of fun shades of purple, and Arya burst out laughing. “It’s okay Bilbo, honestly. Besides, aren’t you hear to defend my honor?” She teased.

He sniffed, rearranging his travelling cloak. “Yes, well, you’re not making it any easier.”

Sighing, she grabbed her cloak out of her bag and  w rapped it around her shoulders, covering her body down to her kneecaps. “Better?”

He sighed in relief. “Much.”

“Miss Callahan.” Arya turned to her left and found Thorin walking next to her, the expression in his eyes unreadable. “Unless you know the way to Erebor, it would be best for us to lead.”

“Oh, right.” She stepped to the side, allowing for the dwarves to move in front of her. “Lead the way, your majesty.”

Thorin’s mouth quivered slightly, and then he was gone, striking out at the front of the group.

“Is it just me, or is he  acting strangely  all of the sudden?” Arya asked, leaning towards Bilbo.

Bilbo’s eyes flickered over to Thorin, pausing briefly on  Dwalin  who was, once again,  staring unabashedly at the hobbit.  Dwalin  had been ever since their arrival in Rivendell, and Bilbo was starting to feel uncomfortable from the sudden onslaught of attention from the tattooed dwarf.

“He’s not the only one,” Bilbo muttered. 

\--

By the end of the first day, Arya was dead on her feet. Not even her incredibly comfortable boots could stop the ache making its way up her legs, nor the burning in her thighs. She almost moaned in happiness when Thorin announced they were stopping for the evening, but that happiness was very short-lived.

“Grab your bow, Miss Callahan,”  Kili  had said, grabbing hold of her arm before she could sit down. “We’re going hunting.”

That had been twenty minutes ago. Arya and  Kili  were now sitting in a small wooded area, waiting for some kind of small game that Arya was almost-hysterically convinced would never come their way.  _ At least we’re sitting down. _

“You’re not terrible.”

Arya frowned at  Kili . “I’m sorry?”

He shook his bow at her, a smirk on his face. “You’re actually doing quite well for a beginner. I mean, you don’t have any sort of natural talent, but not everyone can be this lucky.”

Rolling her eyes, Arya snorted and looked away. “Not all of us can be that humble, either.”

“Huh. Mum always says the same thing.”

Then a doe stepped into the clearing, and four arrows later, Arya emerged victorious against the forces of nature (though she felt completely terrible  about it. She was sure to have  _ Bambi  _ nightmares for weeks now.)

\--

The second day was even worse than the first, travel-wise; her feet were aching something terribly, and some suspicious back-cramps had made a rather sudden – and infuriating – appearance. Needless to say, Arya was  _ not  _ in a good mood.

Her PMS was apparently infectious, because at the end of the third night, just as Arya was contemplating cutting her feet off of her body, Thorin and Balin had gotten into a rather loud argument over which way to travel through the mountains. __ Balin was arguing in favor of the mountain road; Thorin, on the other hand, wanted to take the path cut into the mountain wall itself and nothing else.

“Too much time has been lost - “

“ -  not safe, then the time will not matter - “

“ -  must use every tool at our disposal - “

“ -  swore to the safety of the journey - “

“  - We’ve tarried too long as it is. If we hope to make the mountain by Durin’s day, then the hewn path is our only choice.”

Needless to say, Thorin won, and the company began the dangerous trek through the mountains.  By the end of the  fourth  day, the  mountain road below disappeared from their sight as they climbed higher into the mountain range, and  for the first time since she’d left Rivendell, as her legs unsteadily maneuvered the ill-trodden cliff faces, Arya began to doubt whether or not she was, in fact, capable of this quest.

Those thoughts, of course, were further exacerbated by the fact that she was currently shuffling along the side of the mountain in the midst of a torrential downpour. 

She had just managed to slip her poncho on over her clothes when a roll of thunder echoed throughout the mountain pass, causing the very stone beneath her feet to vibrate. 

“Watch out!” Arya’s head snapped around, and she turned in time to see  Dwalin  save Bilbo from falling off the edge of the cliff.

“Well, bless me, the legends are true!”

“Legends? What legends?”

“Stone-giants,  laddie ,” she heard Balin call to  Bofur .

Her eyes looked up in horror as a stone giant – an actual giant-sized autonomous humanoid creature composed of stones – lifted up a giant rock and flung it across the mountain pass, directly towards the sheer cliff that the company – and Arya – was standing on.

“Take cover!”

Another body collided with hers, and Arya stumbled, trying to regain her balance.  Kili  steadied her quickly before pushing past her, rushing towards his brother.

“ Kili !" Fili’s voice cried out in front of her. “Grab my hand!”

The boulder collided with the rock wall in front of Arya, the force of the impact sending  Kili  back into her body. With a shriek, Arya felt the ground fall out from under her. Her hands grasped the air desperately as she fell, a scream caught in her throat, her grandfather’s eyes staring into her own - 

And then her hands connected with a root on the side of the cliff, and Arya held on with all her might, blinking rapidly as rain water – and tears – streamed down her face. She opened her mouth, trying to cry for help, but the shock of the fall had rendered her momentarily speechless.

“We’re all right! We’re alive!”

“Where’s Arya? Where is she?”

“She was right here with me, I - “

A head peeked over the side of the mountain. “There!”

“Get her!”

A second head appeared over the side of the mountain, his face obscured by the rainy night. His arms grasped hold of her hands, and before she knew it she found herself standing on the hewn path once again, this time shaking in the arms of a livid Thorin  Oakenshield .

“Thank Mahal,” Balin exhaled quickly. “I thought we’d lost our healer!”

Thorin shoved her towards someone, almost growling as he did it. “She’s been lost ever since she left home. She should never have come. She has no place amongst us.  Dwalin !”

The burly dwarf stepped past her, sparing a quick glance in her direction before following the king around the now mostly-destroyed outcropping into what appeared to be a small cave. The rest of the dwarves moved carefully, as if they were following suit. Only Arya remained stock still, her eyes blinking in shock.

“Are you all right, Miss Callahan?” A quiet voice asked. She turned, finding herself held in place by a concerned-looking Ori.

Arya nodded quickly, forcing herself to snap back into reality. “Yes. Sorry.”

“Don’t be, my dear. It would be a shock for any of us,”  Bofur  spoke as he walked past the pair, an ashen Bilbo in tow. “Come now. It’s time to rest.”

Arya allowed herself to be  corralled  by Ori and  Bofur  into the far corner of the cave. She slumped to the ground, back pressed hard against the cold rock. Bilbo joined her soon after, taking her hand in his and rubbing it comfortingly. 

“There’s nothing here,”  Dwalin  announced, emerging from the darkness of the deep cave.

“Right then!”  Gloin  called out, dumping his pack on the ground. “Let’s make a fire.”

“No, n o  fires, not in this place,” Thorin commanded, stalking over towards  Gloin . “Get some sleep. We start at first light.” 

“We were to wait in the mountains until Gandalf joined us. That was the plan.”

“Plans change, Balin.  Bofur , take the first watch.”

\--

For having just faced a near-death experience, the dwarves fell asleep almost immediately. Arya, on the other hand, couldn’t help but stay awake. She saw the abyss of the mountain pass every time she shut her eyes, and even with Bilbo’s caring ministrations, she hadn’t stopped shaking. 

Gripping her pack – and her elvish bow – to her chest, she tucked her knees underneath her chin and sat in the darkness, listening to the rain as it poured outside the cave.

“He was wrong.”

Bilbo’s head appeared in the corner of her eye. She didn’t need to utilize her full peripheral vision in order to know that he was looking at her, concern  etched onto his gentle face . “To say those things, to say them to you. No matter - .” He cut off his own words with a sigh.

“No matter how true they may be?” 

“No matter how true they may feel,” he corrected her. 

They sat silently for a few moments, watching the rain together.

“Why did you agree to come along, if you don’t mind me asking,”  Bofur  spoke hesitantly. The dwarf was sitting across from them, eyes flickering between the rain and Arya almost rhythmically.

“We had to ,” Bilbo replied quietly. “It would have been wrong to do otherwise, to ignore your plight.”

Bofur  shook his head. “I don’t think that’s a good enough answer  anymore ,  laddie .”

Arya shut her eyes, sighing. “I don’t belong anywhere.”

“I’m sorry - “

Bilbo turned to face her, sadness in his eyes. “Arya - “

“I can never go home, Bilbo,” she said, turning to face him, a solitary tear streaming down her face. “I came here, and since I came here, I can never go back.” She turned back towards  Bofur , shaking her head as she wiped at her eyes. “I don’t know, I just - I just hoped that maybe if I helped you find your home, somewhere along the way, I might find mine too. But I’m not so sure about that, anymore.”

_ Wow. That’s real,  _ she thought to herself.  _ And all completely, entirely, 100% true. _

The rain continued to fall, ignoring the words she’d just spoken. She wiped at her eyes again, focusing on exhaling slowly and not hyperventilating, God, fainting would be  just  the worst right now.

Bilbo was the first to speak again.  “Well, you’re always welcome in Bag End. Even though you are rather tall.”

Snorting, Arya turned to face Bilbo. As she did, her eyes caught sight of a faint blue glow on Bilbo’s lap, and her heart stopped in her chest. _ Sting. _

“ Sting! ” she gasped, leaping to her feet.

“What? What is it?”

Arya pointed at Bilbo’s sword.

“Your sword is glowing!”

Bilbo’s eyebrows shot up towards his hairline. “What?!”

The ground began to shake beneath them, a strange whirring sound filling the cave. Thorin was on his feet in a blink of an eye, sword held tightly in his hands. “Wake up!”

The wall of the cave behind them burst open, sending cracks through the stone beneath her feet once again. The floor underneath Arya collapsed, and the last thing she saw as she fell was Bilbo ’s  anguished face as he screamed out her name. 

Then, darkness.


	11. Tomb Raiding for Beginners

Arya awoke to the sound of a voice whispering her name.

“ - rya ? Arya? Are you here?”

“Bilbo?” She murmured, blinking her eyes slowly.

“Arya?”

Grimacing, she pushed herself up into a sitting position, ignoring the sharp pain in her head. “Bilbo?” She asked again, louder this time.

“Arya? Arya!”

She winced and turned to face Bilbo, only to find a cavalcade of rocks between her and his voice. Frowning, she crawled towards the stone. “What - “

“You’re alive!”

“Barely,” she groaned. “What happened?”

Bilbo’s voice dropped into a frenzied whisper. She couldn’t understand most of it, something  about “ missing dwarves” and “alone in the dark”. Whether to attribute it to his quiet volume, the sound-dampening ability of the rocks between them, or to her recently suffered head trauma, she couldn’t be certain. But one word was loud enough, powerful enough, frightening enough, to force her mind back into coherency.

_ Goblins. _

“ -  you get through?”

“What?” She asked again, straining to hear his voice.

“Can you get through? I can’t seem to find an opening,” Bilbo whispered again, panicked.

Arya winced again, pushing herself into a standing position. She peered at the rocks, looking for some kind of way through. “ No, there’s no way. Not without making a lot of noise.”

A whimpering sound came from Bilbo’s side of the wall. “What are we  going  to do?”

“Find a way out,” she replied, dropping her head against the stone. “If we climb  far  enough, we should be able to openings out of the mountain.”

“Are you sure about that?”

“It’s our only option. We’ll just have to be fast and quiet.”

“Arya, I -  “ Bilbo  stopped speaking suddenly, his voice dropping back into a whisper. “Something’s coming!”

“Go!”

“I don’t want to leave you!”

“You have to!” She forced out, whispering louder. “I’ll meet you outside, I promise ! ”

Bilbo was silent for a few moments. Then, with a quickly murmured “be safe”, Bilbo’s breathing disappeared.

Sighing, Arya turned and leaned her back against the rocks, forcing herself to take slow breaths and not panic.  _ Okay, first things first: inventory. _

Opening her eyes, she glanced at the ground and exhaled in relief. Her aunt’s bag was laying at her feet, as was her elvish bow, which had somehow managed to escape the rock-slide in perfect condition. __ Her extra set of arrows was nowhere to be seen; thankfully, she’d stuffed her primary set in her pack before they embarked on this leg of the trip, so she wasn’t completely defenseless.

Arwen had been greatly enthused at the sight of Arya’s pack, and loaded it up with all sorts of things she thought Arya might need in an emergency. It turns out that not only could it pull items from Arya’s home world, it could also hold almost anything and still maintain its normal weight.

“ _ So _ _  it’s like Hermione’s beaded bag?” _

_ Arwen’s nose crinkled as she looked at Arya. “I’m afraid I don’t follow.” _

_ Arya had sighed, shaking her head. “Next time,” she’d murmured to herself. “ _ _ Next time.” _

__ She glanced down at her clothes thoughtfully. The poncho would make too much noise while she was moving, the boots most likely wouldn’t be able to handle the rocks well, and her jacket was absolutely soaked.

Arya moved quickly. Reaching for her pack, she flung the top open and pulled out rock-climbing shoes, a fleece-lined-long-sleeved black exercise shirt, her quiver of arrows, and a small flashlight that she’d be able to hook onto her bag. She also managed to pull out a bottle of acetaminophen, and, thanking the gods, threw back three of those puppies. Shoving off the poncho and jacket, she wrapped them up and stuck them in her pack. Removing her boots, she did the same. Arya shivered as her cold skin touched the air and was quick to throw the fleece shirt over her tank top. Throwing the pack over her shoulder, she did the same with her bow and the quiver, and after attaching the flashlight to the strap of her bag, she took a deep breath.

_ Okay, Arya. Time to Lara Croft our way out of here. _

She turned on the flashlight, took another deep breath, and started walking.

\--

Arya had no idea how long she walked before she heard it. The paths carved into the mountain were slick, coated with some liquid she really,  _ really  _ did not want to spend her time contemplating. She’d managed to creep softly, alternating between finding her way in the dark,  searching for some  external light source, and using her flashlight to climb steeper sections of the wall.

It was just as she pulled herself over the top of a rock ledge that the drumming started.

_ Shit! _  Arya shut off her flashlight and rolled, laying her back flat against the rocks. The sound of squeals suddenly came rushing from the right, and she shuddered as what looked like hundreds of deformed, dwarf-sized gremlins leapt through a tunnel and down the side of the rock-wall she’d just managed to climb. 

_ Breathe, just breathe, just breathe -  _

The flow of goblins decreased to a trickle, and Arya waited until she could hear no more sounds coming from the tunnel before glancing over the edge of her ledge.

A pavilion surrounded-by fire appeared to be several hundred feet beneath her. A whole host of squealing, screeching creatures surrounded it, squawking at what appeared to be a small group of men standing in the center of the pavilion, facing what looked like Jabba the Hutt.

“Who would be so bold as to come armed into my kingdom? Spies? Thieves? Assassins?”

"The Goblin King,” she murmured to herself, watching as the large creature shook with every word.

“Well, well, well, look who it is. Thorin son of  Thrain , son of  Thror ; King under the  Mountain.  O h , but I’m forgetting, you don’t have a mountain. And you’re not a king. Which makes you nobody, really. I know someone who would pay a pretty price for your head. Just the head, nothing attached. Perhaps you know of whom I speak, an old enemy of yours. A Pale Orc astride a White  Warg .”

__ Realization hit Arya in a sickening wave.  _ No. God, no. _

“Send word to the Pale Orc! Tell him I have found his prize.”

The mass of goblins below suddenly started to squawk loudly amongst themselves. She stuck her head further over the side, trying to distinguish just what they were saying.

“ Human blood, you say? She-blood? ”

Arya felt her heart drop into her stomach.  _ No. No. No  _ _ No _ __ _ NO _ __ _ NO _ __ _ NO _ __ _ NO _ _  -  _

“T hen FIND HER!”

Arya shoved herself back off of the ledge. The sound of the screeching hordes slowly grew closer.  _ SHIT!  _ Scrambling, Arya rose to her feet and reached for her pack.  _ Come on, there’s  _ _ gotta _ _  be something here  _ _ -  _ Her  hand came in contact with something. Grasping hold of the item, she pulled it out of her bag. _ A flare  _ _ gun _ _? A flare  _ _ gun _ _! _ __ Sticking her hand back in the bag, she pulled out a box of what she guessed were the flares themselves.

 “Slash them! Beat them! Kill them! Kill them all! Cut off his head!” The Goblin King cried from below .

Arya tore open the box, fumbling to find a flare. Grabbing hold of one, she shoved the others in her bag, stuck the flare in the chamber, and aimed the gun across the darkness of the mountain.  _ Well, here goes nothing. _

She pulled the trigger, and the flare shot off, exploding midway across its arc, only stopped by the opposite wall.

“Attacked! We’re being attacked!”

A second explosion of light rocked through the mountain. Arya peered over the ledge in time to see Gandalf batting away at a horde of goblins. “Take up arms. We run!"

The drumbeats started up again, the screeches of the goblins drew closer as they climbed up the walls of the mountain. 

_ Yep, yeah, let’s do that.  _ Arya stuffed the flare gun back in her bag, turned towards the nearest tunnel, and ran.

_ \-- _

Thorin wasn’t sure how long they were running. He wasn’t sure when he started running, if he was totally honest. One moment he’d been inches away from the Goblin King’s sword, the next he was swinging wildly at whatever goblin came too close, following Gandalf through an ill-constructed maze of  bridges and caverns.

“There’s too many! We can’t fight them!”  Dwalin  yelled out from behind Thorin.

“Only one thing will save us,” Gandalf replied loudly. “We find daylight! Come on! Here, on your feet!”

Groaning, Thorin pushed himself forward. He would not be dying here. Not today.

\--

“Five, six, seven, eight, Bifur,  Bofur , that’s ten,” Gandalf counted as the dwarves ran past him into the daylight now shining down upon the Misty Mountains. “Fili,  Kili , that’s twelve, and  Bombur  - that makes thirteen. Where’s Bilbo? Where is our Hobbit?" Gandalf paused, fear in his eyes. “And Arya? Where is our healer?!”

“I thought he was with Dori!”

“Don’t blame me!”

“She was with Bilbo, last I saw her.”

“When was that?”

“Before - well, before the goblins.”

“What happened exactly?” Gandalf thundered, stalking over to Thorin. “Tell me!”

Thorin’s eyes were unfocused. “I cannot say.”

“Perhaps she and the halfling left!”

“Yes, they might have used this to their advantage! Taken their chance and gone!”

“I would do no such thing!” A new voice chimed in. Gandalf pivoted around to see Bilbo, staring at the dwarves in anger , chest heaving with every breath . “Look, I know you doubt me, I know you always have. And you’re right, I want to go home. But that’s why I came back. Because you don’t have one. A home. It was taken from you. But I will help you take it back if I can. And Arya -”

Then Bilbo paused, the blood draining from his face. “Arya. Where is she?”

\--

Arya had never run so fast in her life.

The tunnel she’d chosen was v acant, save for a few decomposing corpses of – well, she wasn’t sure  _ what  _ they were, but whatever they were, not much was left. The drumming sound had continued behind her, and while it faded the farther down the tunnel she ran, the screeches of the goblins did not. 

She rounded a corner and almost yelped for joy. Sunlight was pouring through a dwarf-sized hole. Freedom was in sight.

Of course, that’s when a goblin leapt down in front of her path, snarling as it drew closer.

“So young... so tasty,”  it  said, licking its lips as it drew near.

Arya came to an immediate halt , barely swallowing down a scream.

Exhaling quickly, she reached back, pulled an arrow from her quiver, and threw her arm forward.  _ Now or never.  _ She grimaced, stabbing the goblin in the throat. It screeched, black blood spurting all over her arms and hands. The goblin tried to grab hold of her, but she kicked it to the side, leaving the arrow embedded in its carotid artery.

The cries behind Arya grew louder, and she leapt back into action. And just as the goblins entered that final corridor, Arya raced into the sunlight of a new day.

She ran until the opening of the mountain was out of sight. Sliding to a stop, she rested her hands on her knees. “Thank you, thank you, thank you,” she murmured over and over again in between breaths. 

Arya stood there for a few moments, focusing on getting her breathing under control, on getting her hands to stop shaking, on wiping the goblin’s blood off on the grass underneath her feet.  _ Okay,  _ _ Arya. _ __ _ P _ _ anic attack later. Right now, we need to find the dwarves. _

Nodding to herself, Arya stood up. She was standing amidst what appeared to be a small forest growing on the side of the mountain. The forest stretched further into the range on her left, and on her right was a sheer drop. She stepped  closer to the drop-off and groaned. Her outcropping was at least twenty-feet off the ground. Arya turned and looked further down the mountain. At least it looked like it followed the side of the mountain down most of the way.

It was then that she heard it.

“WHERE IS SHE?”

Bilbo’s cry was answered by the howl of an all-too-familiar beast.

Arya’s heart plummeted into her stomach. Again.  _ Wargs _ _.  _

Leaning over the side of the drop-off, she waved her hands wildly. The tallest figure glanced up. Arya pointed further down the mountain, and then took off, hoping Gandalf would get the message.

“Run! RUN!”

Arya glanced back as she run. Clearly, he did, as the company was now sprinting down the mountainside. Nodding, Arya looked forward, focusing on keeping pace with the dwarves. However, the dwarves – and Gandalf  – soon pulled ahea d, and a few minutes later they were totally out of sight. The howls seemed to follow them, and by the time the dwarves were again in sight, Arya’s worst fear was as well.

A large pale orc, sitting on top of a white  warg , was facing the cliff of the mountain. The dwarves, she noted, appeared to be sitting in the limbs of a dead tree, barely hanging onto the side of the mountain.

Arya immediately stopped, throwing herself behind a large tree.  _ Quiet, quiet, focus on being quiet -  _

“ **_ Biriz _ ** **__ ** **_ torag _ ** **__ ** **_ khobdudol _ ** .”

The words sent a chill down her spine. The voice was dark and rabid, and Arya shoved her hand over her mouth, forcing herself not to whimper.

Shouts filled the mountainside, and Arya watched as Thorin was pulled from the tree and shoved in front of  Azog , forced down onto his knees.

“NO!” She heard  Kili  scream. “NO, THORIN!”

_ When the time comes, you’ll know where you’re needed.  _ Her grandfather’s voice echoed through her head.

She’d stepped back, pulling her bow and arrow from her back before she knew she was doing it.

_ Breathe. You can do this, Arya. Take your time and line up the shot, _  she heard  Elrohir’s  voice in her head.

_ Don’t be afraid,  _ Elladan’s  voice contributed.

“Don’t back down,” she whispered to herself.

Arya stepped around the tree. Knocking the arrow into place, she drew the bow back and aimed.  _ Just like Anatomy 203. You can do this. _

She released the arrow and watched as it flew, glimmering, straight through  Azog’s  car ot id artery.

\--

Thorin didn’t shut his eyes. He wouldn’t. If he was to die here, he would die with honor. He would die looking death right in the face.

Azog  raised his sword above his head. “ Say good-bye, Durin scum ,” the Pale Orc  snarled .

Thorin blinked. And when he opened his eyes, it was to the sight of black b ile  gushing forth from  Azog’s  throat, drenching his own coat in the foul creature’s blood. 

A second arrow was shot into  Azog , this time directly through his head. 

A loud cry was heard coming from behind Thorin, and he turned just in time to see Bilbo Baggins leap towards the orc and, with a wild swing, cut  Azog’s  head off of his body.

The other orcs in the party began to scream loudly as  Azog’s  dead body slumped off of his pale  warg . He could hear the sound of his company hollering behind him, of Bilbo crying for him to get up, but all he could see was the  Azog’s  decapitated head lying in front of him, arrow still imbedded in its brain - 

Arrow.

An elvish arrow.

Thorin whipped his head to the right.

There she was.

“Arya.”

“There’s no time, Thorin, we must go!” Bilbo cried. 

The white  warg  standing in front of Thorin, finally understanding just what had happened, snarled before turning and running to its left.

Running towards the wooded area of the mountain.

Running towards her.

“ARYA!”

\--

Thorin’s terrif i ed cry broke Arya’s concentration. She blinked, and suddenly the white  warg  was bearing down at her, leaping onto whatever tree would get him higher, closer, quicker - 

A white moth fluttered in front of Arya’s eyes. Dropping her arrow, she turned her gaze to Gandalf, who nodded as he yelled. 

“GO!”

Arya wrapped her bow around her torso and ran, sprinting towards the edge of the cliff.

_ " _ Oh God oh God oh God I fucking hate heights -”

Her body, thankfully, didn’t listen to her  words , and with one last leap, Arya threw herself off the side of the mountain. She shut her eyes, hoping, praying that she was right about the moth - 

And then she collided with something high, high in the sky, and she knew no more.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And here is the upload of batch two! I'll be uploading five chapters next week and the week after, so this fic will be concluded shortly :) Thanks for all of the love!


	12. Of Bears and Men

_She’s been lost ever since she left home. She should never have come. She has no place amongst us._

_Human blood, you say? She-blood?_

_So young... so tasty._

_NO, THORIN!_

Kili’s screams chased her into consciousness. "Ugh,” she murmured, forcing her eyes open.

“Good. You’re awake.”

She flinched instinctively, turning towards the source of the sound. “I’m - sorry?” She coughed loudly, every movement sending a dull pain bouncing around her head.

A tall, black-haired man smiled down at her, his canines sharp, much too sharp to be human. “You are safe here, my lady. Rest.”

Her eyes fluttered shut as if on command, and Arya sank back into her unconsciousness.

\--

_Should she be sleeping this long?_

_… suffered head trauma. It will heal her injuries, but it will take another day._

_… stay a week, anyways._

_… defiler is dead._

_… was her._

_It was her._

This time, when Arya opened her eyes, her head didn’t ache nearly as much. In fact, aside from feeling dehydrated, it didn’t hurt her at all.

“Good morning once again, my lady.”

She winced, pushing herself into a sitting position before turning to look, once again, at the black-haired man. “Who are you? Where am I? How did -”

The man chuckled quietly. “Rest, little bird. I am Beorn, and you are a guest in my home. My companions and I have been caring for you and yours for two days now. You will be staying for another five.” He walked closer towards her and knelt on the ground, so that his head was hovering just three feet above hers. “As to your head injury, it is now healed. I was able to concoct a restorative draught known only by my people.”

“Huh,” Arya murmured, eyes flickering across Beorn. “Any chance you could teach me?”

He grinned again, revealing his sharpened teeth. “One day, perhaps.” Standing, Beorn made his way across the ornately-carved chestnut bedroom and towards the door on the lefthand side. “My companions will bring you some food and drink. A bath has been drawn for you, should you so desire it.” With that, Beorn nodded towards Arya in deferment and swept out of the room.

Arya winced again, pushing herself up. Her lower back ached in pain with every movement. _Ow. Why –_ She glanced underneath the oversized black blanket and groaned at the sight. _Yep. Bath time it is._

\--

She’d had to empty and refill the bathtub three separate times before the water stopped turning black with blood and soot and god-knows-what. It’d taken two separate shampooings before her hair finally felt clean, and by the time she made it back to her bed (now with clean white sheets), she was completely exhausted. Forcing herself to drink a bit of water and eat at least one of the rolls Beorn had provided, Arya shut her eyes soon afterwards and fell back asleep, and back into the nightmares of her mind.

_Never should have come!_

_FIND HER!_

_So young... so tasty._

**_Biriz torag khobdudol_ ** _!_

Arya awoke with a start. She pushed herself upright on the bed, gasping, and shut her eyes, focusing on slowing down her breaths, on avoiding thoughts of the Misty Mountains. _Just breathe, just breathe, just breathe -_

It was no use. All of her emotions, all her hormones, all of the images of the death and destruction she’d seen came rushing back, and soon Arya was sobbing uncontrollably, gripping the blanket around her tightly as she cried. She heard the creatures’ screams every time she shut her eyes, the look of hatred in the Pale Orc’s face as she gazed at Azog, Thorin’s eyes of fury when he spat at her turning into fear as the white warg charged -

_I’m singin’ in the rain, just singin’ in the rain! What a glorious feelin’, I’m happy again -_

Her grandfather’s voice emerged from the darkness of her mind, and she latched onto it with all her might.

_I’m laughin’ at clouds, so dark up above, the sun’s in my heart_

_“_ and I’m ready for love,” she sang under her breath. The memories of the last few days faded from her mind as she sang the song to herself, and by the time it was done, the tears had stopped flowing and her breathing was mostly back to normal.

Wiping away the wetness on her cheeks, Arya finally took a good look around the room. The bedroom was utterly massive, its furniture built entirely of chestnut wood. A small fireplace was set directly across the bed, a few flickering embers giving off their last bit of warmth. The room was illuminated by a few candles – all of which were running dangerously low – and the only sound she could hear was that of the crickets chirping outside her open window.

A sharp pain lanced itself through her lower back. She winced, pushing against the sensation with her left hand. _Time to get down to business, I suppose._

Shoving herself out of bed with a groan, Arya made her way towards the small bath area in the far corner of the bedroom. Thankfully, Beorn had some kind of plumbing system, and she was able to flush her tampons down the toilet. "That would have been a _really_ awkward conversation otherwise,” she murmured to herself as she grabbed her pack. It had survived the fall off of the cliff – as had her elvish bow – and, after properly brushing and flossing her teeth, she pulled a rather large Starbucks cup from its depths and bit back a moan. She took a small, happy sip, and made her way towards the armoire.

It was still dark outside, and the morning was rather cool, so Arya dressed warmly. Beorn apparently had entertained female visitors before, as there was a wide variety of blouses and skirts in his closet. She grabbed the only cream-colored blouse that seemed to fit her, a dark green skirt covered with patches, and a large, light blue blanket covered with flowers. She got dressed quickly and, after draping the blanket over her shoulders and hugging it against her, grabbed her Starbucks cup and quietly crept towards the door of her bedroom.

The door opened silently into a darkened corridor. Arya stepped cautiously, careful not to disturb whomever – or whatever – was still sleeping under Beorn’s roof. The door swung back behind her and closed with a quick click. She froze. When no one acknowledged her or moved, she sighed in relief, and began her silent walk down the main corridor.

For being a rather large house, there weren’t many rooms. In fact, the corridor was empty of any other offshoots or rooms, and Arya was starting to worry that she’d somehow been left behind when the corridor ended and she stepped into the dining area of the house.

There, practically sleeping on top of each other near a large, stone fireplace, were the dwarves, stretched out on various divans, squished into chairs, and even laying on beds made of – was that hay? Kili and Fili were on one bed of hay, huddled together under a blanket. Bifur, Bofur, and Ori were sharing a divan, Dori and Nori had another hay bed, Gloin and Oin each had chairs, as did Bombur. Balin had a small divan to himself, as did Thorin, and laying on a hay bed in front of his divan was Dwalin and – Arya leaned forward, squinting. _Is that?_

It was. Bilbo was currently wrapped up in Dwalin’s arms, the dwarf all but on top of him, as if he was unconsciously shielding him from the outside world. The hobbit sniffed a little bit before snuggling into Dwalin, who grunted, pulling him even closer.

Smiling at the sight, Arya made her way past the snoring dwarves. She walked around the incredibly large dining room table, past a slumbering Gandalf, and out the front door, coming to a stop in a fenced-in garden.

She inhaled sharply, breathing in the crisp morning air. The sun had just started to peer out from over the horizon, and Arya tried to catalogue as many of the flowers in the garden as she could on her way towards a small pavilion. _Roses, tulips, daisies, bleeding hearts -_

Arya paused. There, surrounding the pavilion, were several patches of forget-me-nots.

_I will always be with you._

Bending over, she plucked a handful from the nearest patch and carried them with her as she walked towards the pavilion. Upon reaching the pavilion, she set her coffee on the ground, and sat, leaning her back against the intricately carved doorpost. She set her coffee down on her left-hand side, and, examining the flowers in her hand, she smiled.

_I know._

Arya lifted her eyes and sat in the silence, content to watch the sunrise.

\--

The sun had moved only a few inches higher into the sky when the sound of footsteps interrupted her silence.

Sighing, Arya turned her head lazily towards the sound and froze at the sight that greeted her, breath caught in her lungs.

It was Thorin, dressed in a pair of loose-fitting trousers and a white nightshirt. His shirt was unbuttoned, revealing a large expanse of muscular, hair-covered chest. The sleeves of the shirt were pushed up, bunched around the muscles in his arms, and Arya had to blink a few times before she could comprehend just what she was seeing.

Her eyes snapped up once she realized that she was effectively ogling him and met his gaze. He was staring at her as well, an unreadable expression on his face. She cleared her throat, ignoring the flush on her face. “Good morning,” she spoke quickly.

Thorin just stared at her for a few moments before nodding. “You look better. Less sickly, I mean. Not – not - ” He waved his hand in front of him in sort of a vague manner. Something unwound in Arya's chest as she watched him grow increasingly flustered.

“ - not at all a comment on your, uh, ability to attract a suitor, of course -”

She stifled a laugh, feeling only a slight twinge of guilt at his clear discomfort.

_“_ No, no, I understand.” Arya nodded towards the step she was sitting on. “You can join me, if you’d like.”

Thorin nodded slowly, his eyes leaving her face as he stepped closer. He exhaled loudly as he sat on the ground, and Arya turned her face back towards the sunrise, focusing on breathing – and acting – completely normal. They sat there in silence for some time. Arya could feel his gaze continually flickering back towards her, his eyes making her skin burn, but she did her best to ignore it, focusing on the approaching dawn.

“What do you hold in your hands?”

Arya frowned. “I’m not -” She dropped her gaze toward her lap, brows unfurrowing. “Oh, you mean these.”

The bouquet of forget-me-nots were still clenched in her hand. “They’re forget-me-nots. My favorite flowers, actually. I found a patch back there,” she said, nodding behind her.

“Is there a reason why? That they are your favorite?” He asked quietly, eyes dropping to look at them.

Arya felt herself smile as she held the flowers out in his direction. “I started growing them when my grandfather died. Sort of as a reminder to myself not to forget my time with him.” Her eyes moved up to meet Thorin’s and found that, once again, she was trapped in his gaze. His eyes were a light, shining blue, a blue that looked so familiar -

She frowned slightly, and moved her hand so she was holding the flowers up against his face.

“Look at that. They match your eyes,” she murmured, her own flickering between his face and the blue flowers held next to it.

Her heart thudded to a stop. _You said that out loud! FUCKING HELL!_

Eyes widening, she dropped her hand from his face. “Sorry, I -”

Thorin caught her hand as it fell, his eyes growing fiery in their intensity. “You saved my life and the lives of my kin. It is your arrow that felled the defiler, the bane of Durin. You need never apologize to me. It is I who must apologize to you.”

Her mind went blank. “I -”

“I have doubted you every step of the way. Even when I had no reason to not trust you, I doubted you, and I did so gladly. My pride got in the way of my reason, and if it wasn’t for you, we would be dead.” He drew her arm towards him, their faces now only a few inches away from each other. “You have my eternal gratitude, and my sincerest apologies. I only wish now for your forgiveness.”

_Don’t just sit there! Do something!_ Her mind screamed at her.

She shook her head, smiling at him. “You have it,” she said, staring him in the eyes. “And you saved my life too, so, we’re even, I guess.”

An incredulous look appeared on Thorin’s face as he gaped at her. “Even?” He finally pushed out. “I don’t understand.”

“Even? As in, you did me a favor, I did the same, now no one owes anyone anything?”

“Your words are strange, Arya Callahan,” he murmured, his eyes tracing her face. “But -” his words trailed off into silence.

Arya stopped breathing as she watched Thorin’s sapphire blue eyes examine her, watching as he, in turn, silently gazed on her, eyes locked onto her face, then her own eyes, his hand never lessening his hold on her, the air between them entirely composed of their own breaths -

“ - orin? Thorin? Thorin!”

Thorin leapt up and away from Arya like he’d been burned at the sound of Kili’s voice. Clearing his throat, he nodded in her direction before turning on his heel and walking back towards the house.

She turned back to face the sunrise, her face warm from the blush that was surely on it. Arya’s heart fluttered in time with his steps as they grew quieter, and it didn’t settle down until silence reigned around her once again.

_Well, shit._

_“_ ARYA!”

At Bilbo’s call her head whipped around, and she only had a few moments to stand before Bilbo flung his arms around her, babbling like an infant.

“ - alright? Beorn said you would wake when it was time, but Oin was rather concerned about your head, does it feel all right? Have you eaten anything yet? Have you had any water? And what are you doing out here in the chill, you need to rest, we can’t have you getting sick now, can we?”

Arya just beamed and, wrapping her arms around Bilbo, swung him around in the air before setting him back down on the ground. “I’m so glad you’re okay,” she murmured into his hair, kissing him on top of the head.

Bilbo, still holding onto her arms, nodded, tears shining in his eyes. “As am I, my friend. As am I.”

“As are we,” Balin spoke up. Arya looked up from Bilbo to see the rest of the company standing behind him, watching Arya and Bilbo with relieved expressions on their faces. Save Dwalin, who was glaring at Arya, his glower intensifying with every moment Bilbo spent touching her. Bilbo finally let go of her arms, patting her hand comfortably instead, and Dwalin relaxed almost instantaneously.

_“_ On behalf of the company, I would like to offer you our most sincere apologies, Miss Callahan,” Balin began, politely ignoring his brother’s rapidly changing countenance. “We allowed our own expectations and prejudices to color our opinion of you before we had made your acquaintance, and for that, we are truly sorry. We would also like to express our gratitude for your actions taken at the Misty Mountains. We would not be here if not for you, and for that, we offer our sincerest thanks.”

Arya’s eyes met Gandalf’s, who was watching the entire proceeding from the doorway, a large smile on his face. Exhaling quickly, Arya dropped her gaze to Balin and beamed at him. “You have my forgiveness and my gratitude, although the apologies really aren’t necessary.”

Balin’s eyes began to twinkle as the dwarves began to chatter amongst themselves excitedly. “I had a feeling you would say that, my dear. So, in lieu of the traditional pardoning battle -”

“Pardoning battle?”

“We have decided to swear our eternal friendship to you instead.”

“Wait, what -”

Balin stepped forward. “I, Balin, son of Fundin, unto you, Arya Callahan of Oahu, give you my counsel, should you require it, henceforth and until the end of my days.”

Arya smiled nervously, shaking her head at him. “Balin, I - “

“I, Fili, son of Vili, unto you, Arya Callahan of Oahu,” Fili stepped forward, cutting off Arya’s protests, “give the protection of my line, henceforth and until the end of my days.”

“I, Kili, son of Vili, unto you, Arya Callahan of Oahu, give my assistance in learning the noble art of the bow and arrow, henceforth and until the end of my days.”

Arya’s eyes flickered to Bilbo. “Umm -”

He patted her hand comfortingly. “They did it for me yesterday. It goes rather quickly.”

“We, Bofur, son of Difur, and Bifur, son of Difur, unto you, Arya Callahan of Oahu,” Bofur spoke, Bifur signing along with him, “our stories and our language, so that you may better know and understand our world, henceforth and until the end of my days.”

“I, Bombur, son of Dombur, unto you, Arya Callahan of Oahu, give my skill in the kitchen, that you and your kin may never go hungry, henceforth and until the end of my days.”

“I, Gloin, son of Groin, unto you, Arya Callahan of Oahu, give my gift of flame, that you may never go cold, henceforth and until the end of my days.”

“I, Oin, son of Groin, unto you, Arya Callahan of Oahu, give my training in healing, that you may further your own knowledge of the subject and grow greater in your trade, henceforth and until the end of my days.”

“I, Dori, son of Mori, unto you, Arya Callahan of Oahu, give my strength, should your feet fail, henceforth and until the end of my days.”

“I, Nori, son of Mori, unto you, Arya Callahan of Oahu, give my word that I will never willingly steal from you or your kin, henceforth and until the end of my days.”

Dori elbowed Nori in the side. “What? What?”

“I, Ori, son of Mori,” Ori started, completely ignoring his brothers, “unto you, Arya Callahan of Oahu, give my words, so you may better know and appreciate our culture, henceforth and until the end of my days.”

“I, Dwalin, son of Fundin,” the tattooed dwarf finally said, coming to a rest behind Bilbo, “unto you, Arya Callahan of Oahu, give my protection, that danger may find no easy path to your door, henceforth and until the end of my days.”

Bilbo turned and beamed at Dwalin, and the look of happiness on the dwarf’s face at the hobbit’s expression almost brought a tear to Arya’s eye.

“And I, Thorin,” Thorin’s voice snapped her out of her thoughts and back towards the dwarf who, now dressed, was crossing the courtyard towards her, “son of Thrain, son of Thror, Heir and Rightful King under the Mountain, unto you, Arya Callahan of Oahu, give my undying gratitude and a place amongst the people of Erebor should you desire to remain upon its reclamation, henceforth and until the end of my days.” He came to stop in front of her, and the dwarves collectively held their breath.

Feeling a sharp elbow in her side, Arya looked down at Bilbo, who nodded at her supportively.

“I - uh, Arya Callahan, granddaughter of Sean Callahan, graciously accept your gifts and offer unto you, um – the Company of Thorin Oakenshield, my aid and my friendship whenever it is wanted or needed, henceforth and until the end of my days?” She asked, shooting a look at Balin. At his nod, she relaxed and smiled. “Yes. Henceforth and until the end of my days.”

With that, the dwarves burst into loud cheers. Fili and Kili charged towards her, only stopped at the last second by an exasperated Gloin. “She is still healing!” He scolded, dragging them away from Arya. “You may embrace her once Oin says it is allowed.”

“No, you may embrace her when Bilbo says it is allowed, and Bilbo says it is not allowed unless Bilbo says so, is present and there are at least three other witnesses!” Bilbo hollered, traipsing after Gloin and the the boys.

A laugh bubbled up inside of her throat as she watched Bilbo run off, fondness in her eyes.

“Now that that’s done,” Oin said, pushing through the throng of dwarves, “it is time for you to return to the house and eat something. It is much too cold to remain out here.”

Arya shook her head. “Honestly, I’m fiNE!” She finished with a squeal as her legs suddenly gave out from under her. No, that wasn’t it - Dori had swept her off her feet and was carrying her into the house.

“Healer’s orders, Miss Callahan.”

Groaning, she turned her head forward, just in time to see Gandalf laughing merrily at her predicament. “Dwarves,” she muttered, giving up on escaping Dori’s grasp.

Gandalf just smiled and held open the door.

\--

The rest of the day flew by in a complete blur. After eating more scrambled eggs than she’d ever eaten in her life – thanks to an incredibly anxious Bilbo Baggins – Arya was seated on one of the couches near the fireplace and proceeded to listen to the dwarves recount their time in the mountains, with only a few editorialized outbursts from Fili and Kili. Bilbo, when asked, only mentioned that it was a long walk for him. Her eyes flitted down to his fingers as he spoke, and sure enough, he was fingering something in the pocket of his coat.

A sudden sense of dread fell over her heart. _Shit. Already?_

And then Arya looked at Thorin, Fili and Kili, speaking and smiling amongst themselves, and her heart fell out of her chest.

_No. Remember what Arwen said? One vision of many. This is why you’re here. You’re going to save them. You’re going to save them all. Somehow._

Bilbo, after that completely unsatisfying explanation, was quick to divert the attention off of himself and back onto Arya, to her immense relief. The last thing she wanted was to dwell on, well, morbid thoughts, and this provided an amusing distraction. The dwarves were equally eager and bombarded with so many questions that her head started spinning. She answered as best as she could, even Kili’s random question about whether or not she found beards attractive, and what was her favorite kind of metal, and “if you had a favorite bird, what would it be?”. However, by early evening – and almost FOUR HOURS into the dwarves’ interrogation - she found she was exhausted and upon retiring to her room, was able to fall asleep that night with nothing but pleasant dreams to greet her as she slumbered.

The next day was spent getting to know the dwarves better. And by getting to know the dwarves better, it actually meant that she spent the day sequestered on the pavilion between Balin, Dori and Gloin, listening as they discussed their families and siblings and everything else under the sun while the remaining dwarves – and Bilbo, for some reason – went hunting.

It rained buckets on the fifth day, and when Arya finally awoke and joined the dwarves, Fili and Kili all but begged her to tell them the story of the Skywalker. She’d glared at Bofur, who nonchalantly whistled and then hid himself behind Bombur, but not even _she_ was incapable of saying no to Fili and his surprisingly watery eyes.

The dwarves loved _A New Hope_ , of course, and Fili was begging her to tell it again when she just _had_ to mention that the story didn’t end there. Which meant that she spent the rest of the day slowly recounting _The Empire Strikes Back,_ and when she said that the second chapter of the story was completed, Kili, Bofur, Nori and Ori almost rioted. Gandalf, thankfully, put the kabosh on that, and Arya snickered to herself as she fell asleep, listening to the dwarves argue as to just how the story was going to end.

Then the seventh day dawned and, with her cycle behind her, Arya dressed early that morning in traveling clothes, chugged a protein shake that she’d miraculously pulled from her pack, and left the comfort of Beorn’s bedroom for the last time.

\--

The dwarves were already up and eating by the time Arya joined them, her pack and bow slung across her back. Beorn was present also, to Arya’s delight. He was deep in conversation with Gandalf about something when he saw her enter.

“Good morning, little bird!” He said, smiling as his eyes fell on Arya. “Please, eat your fill. I would hate for you to leave her unsatisfied.”

She saw Bilbo begin to flush bright red from his spot next to Dwalin at the far end of the table. “I beg your -”

“Thank you for your generosity, Beorn,” Arya cut him off, shooting Bilbo a sharp look before nodding to their host. “I am in your debt.”

“Nonsense, little bird,” he replied warmly. “It is my honor to serve you.”

Beorn then took that opportunity to wink at her, which probably would have sent Bilbo into hysterics if Dwalin hadn’t been actively blocking his view of Beorn. As it was, she felt a sharp tug on her arm, and found herself firmly sequestered between Fili and Kili, both of whom were staring at Beorn suspiciously. Even Thorin, she noted, who had moved from his position near the fireplace to hover behind the trio, was glaring at their host.

Gandalf shot Thorin a look before turning back to Beorn. “I believe you were saying?”

“Ahh, yes. I would not advise that you travel through Mirkwood. A darkness lies upon that forest. Fell things creep beneath those trees. I would not venture there except in great need.”

“Surely it is safe,” Kili protested, “what with the elves patrolling the forest.”

 “Safe? The Wood-Elves of Mirkwood are not like their kin. They’re less wise, more dangerous, and unwilling to help those beyond their borders if it does not benefit them in some manner. But it matters not. These lands are crawling with Orcs. Their numbers are growing, and you are on foot. You will never reach the forest alive.” At this, Beorn turned to Arya, concern on his face. “I fear it is not safe for you, my lady. I would advise you to take leave of your company and make for Lorien instead.”

“What?”

“How dare he insinuate -”

“ - one of us, and she’s staying with us -”

“ - let me at ‘em -”

“ - new bear-skin rug -”

“I appreciate your concern,” Arya practically yelled over the din of the dwarves. They quieted down, turning their attention on her. “I appreciate your concern,” she began again, “but I gave them my word, and I intend to keep it.”

Beorn’s smile was sad as he looked at her. “Just like her mother, is she not?” She heard him murmur to Gandalf.

“Indeed,” the wizard replied quietly. The dwarves, however, just looked at themselves – and then at Arya – in confusion.

“Well, my lady, if you intend on travelling with them to Mirkwood and beyond, then I will give you what aid I can offer.”

Arya shot a quick look at Balin, who nodded at her. “We would be in your debt,” she said slowly, finding Beorn once again with her eyes. “I will ensure you are repaid for your hospitality, should our journey prove successful.”

“I do not wish for dwarven gold,” Beorn said, turning his unwavering stare upon Thorin. “If I may speak so boldly, I do not like dwarves or their machinations. They are greedy and stubborn, blind to the lives of those they deem lesser than themselves. If it were just them sitting before me, I would not offer them aid. But for you, my lady, I offer it to them freely and with no conditions.”

At that, the dwarves fell silent. Arya stood up slowly and made her way down the table towards Beorn until she was a few footsteps away. She swept into a low curtsy, to the loud whispers of the dwarves. “You have my eternal gratitude, Beorn.”

“That is reward enough, little bird,” he spoke solemnly. “Now, come with me,” he grabbed hold of her hand and led her out the door, ignoring the shouts of surprise coming from the dwarves. “I will show you to your ponies.”

****


	13. Mirkwood

After a lengthy farewell and thank-you (with a fair amount of grumbling coming from the dwarves), the Company took their leave, and, for the first time since the journey began, Arya found herself right in the middle of the pack of dwarves, travelling between Dwalin (who shared a pony with Bilbo) and Dori. The company began their march towards Mirkwood in high spirits, but by the time they had reached the edge of the wood, the dwarves had fallen mostly silent – save Fili and Kili, who were still arguing about what the tactical disadvantages of lightsabers would be, if they had any at all.

Gandalf, who led the group out of Beorn’s house, slowed his horse to a stop in front of an ancient-stone entryway. “The Elven Gate,” he announced, turning his gaze towards Thorin, who had stopped his horse alongside Gandalf’s. “Here lies our path through Mirkwood.”

“No sign of the Orcs,” Dwalin grumbled, dismounting his horse. The moment his feet touched the ground, he wrapped his arms around Bilbo and pulled him off the horse as well, setting the blushing hobbit down next to him. “We have luck on our side.”

Gandalf hummed noncommittally, sliding off of his horse. “Set the ponies loose. Let them return to their master.” He stepped slowly towards the Elven Gate.

“Allow me, Miss Callahan.”

Arya looked down and saw Dori extending his hand towards her.

“Thank you,” she smiled softly. He nodded stiffly and grabbed her by the waist, setting her gently on the ground.  Dori nodded again before turning on his heel, making his way towards his brothers.

Her eyes snapped back towards Bilbo, who was making his way towards Gandalf, Dwalin in tow. “This forest feels sick," she heard him say as she drew closer. “As if a disease lies upon it. Is there no way around?”

“Not unless we go two hundred miles north, or twice that distance south,” the wizard replied, placing his hand upon the stone archway. He began muttering to himself.

Frowning, Arya walked quickly towards Gandalf, pushing herself past Balin, Gloin, and Ori. “Gandalf?”

An arm suddenly reached out and grabbed her, stopping her in her tracks. She turned to find herself looking at a concerned Thorin Oakenshield. Arya frowned at him, wiggling her arm in his grasp. “What -”

“The High Fells,” she heard Gandalf murmur. “So be it.”

Gandalf whirled around and ran back towards the rest of the company. Thorin yanked Arya towards him, narrowly moving her out of the way of the sprinting wizard. “Not my horse! I need it!”

“Wait! You’re not leaving us?” Bilbo asked incredulously, hollering after Gandalf.

“I would not do this unless I had to.” With a quick jump Gandalf was back on the saddle of his horse, yanking on the steed so he turned to face the company. “I’ll be waiting for you at the overlook, before the slopes of Erebor. Keep the map and key safe. Do not enter that mountain without me,” he said, stern eyes landing on Thorin, who was _still_ holding Arya in his grasp. “This is not the Greenwood of old,” he continued as he held the dwarf’s gaze. “The very air of the forest is heavy with illusion. It will seek to enter your mind and lead you astray.”

“Lead us astray?”

“What does that mean?”

“It means you must stay on the path and not leave it, Master Kili!” Gandalf cried, turning his glare on that dwarf. “If you do, you will never find it again.”

He urged his horse to turn back around, eyes landing on Arya briefly before the horse leapt into motion. “No matter what may come, stay on the path!”

The company fell silent for a few moments as they watched him ride off. As soon as he was beyond their sight, they began to murmur amongst themselves, their gazes flickering uncertainly towards Mirkwood. It was only Arya that continued to stare after Gandalf, a growing sense of dread in her heart. _It’s starting._

“Come,” Thorin spoke, releasing Arya’s arm from his grasp. Her gaze finally flickered back towards him, and the moment their eyes met Thorin stepped backwards, turning to address the rest of the dwarves. “We must reach the mountain before the sun sets on Durin’s Day. Time is not on our side.”

“Aye,” Dwalin spoke up, strapping his axe to his back. “Durin’s Day. Let’s go!”

The dwarves leapt into motion, strapping bags, packs, and weaponry to their backs. Thorin turned and led the charge, and with every dwarf that passed Arya by, the sense of foreboding in her heart only grew in its size. “This is our one chance to find the hidden door,” he hollered over his shoulder. “We must not waste it.”

“Are you all right?”

Arya shook her head and turned to look at Bilbo. “Yeah, I -” She looked up as the dwarves filed into the woods. Dwalin was the last to pass through and stopped directly under the archway, glaring at Arya and Bilbo. “Just stay close, all right?”

He nodded at her assuredly. “Of course. Now, come on,” he said, grabbing hold of her hand. “It’ll just be a nice stroll in the woods.”

\--

Surprisingly, it was a nice stroll through the woods. At least, it was for Arya.

Any sunlight that may have guided them through the forest had disappeared the moment Arya had stepped across the threshold. The path on the ground was well worn and broken, made from a stone as old as the archway she had just passed through. However, the air she breathed was fresh and clear, and the leaves in the trees waved welcomingly with the breeze, and Arya felt immensely more comfortable in the midst of the forest than she had riding in the wide-open plains.

She was the only one who felt that way.

It had only been a few minutes after they’d entered Mirkwood that the dwarves began to complain.

“Air. I need air!”

“My head, it’s spinning.”

“Feel like I’m going to be sick -”

“ - dark, why is it so dark -”

Bilbo nudged Arya in the side. “We’ve only just begun,” he murmured, watching as Bofur and Gloin began panting desperately.

“I know,” she replied quietly. “Just focus on the path.”

“Right,” he nodded, his attention turning towards Dwalin, who was now grumbling almost-constantly under his breath. “Focus on the path.”

\--

It continued on like this for several hours. Arya only knew it had, in fact, been that long because she’d pulled a watch out of her pack during their first rest, along with another protein bar and a fresh water bottle. She’d donned the watch under her sleeves, finished the protein bar and shoved the water bottle back in her pack before returning. _At least I don’t have my period right now,_ she thought as she watched the dwarves continue to complain. _It could have been SO much worse._

SMACK! She walked right into a frozen Nori.

“Keep moving!” Thorin stalked past Arya, grabbing hold of Nori’s arm. “Nori, why have we stopped?”

“The path... it’s disappeared!”

Arya frowned, looking at the ground. She was still standing on the path. They all were. Granted, it curved sharply to the left just past Nori, but it was still in their sights.

“What’s going on?” Dwalin thundered from behind her.

“We’ve lost the path!” Oin hollered back, sending the rest of the dwarves into an anxious tizzy.

“Find it. All of you look. Look for the path!” Thorin turned to look at the dwarves. “Go! Find it!”

The dwarves began spreading all over the area, separating into small groups. Arya looked over at Bilbo, who was just being dragged along with Balin’s group by Dwalin, face contorted in a yawn.

"We’re still on the path,” she called out to the dwarves’ backs. “It just curves, that’s all.”

Everyone completely ignored her.

Arya huffed exasperatedly and began to walk. “Gentlemen, trust me, we’re still on the path, it’s just the forest -”

“STOP!”

Arya froze at Thorin’s yelp. She’d just stepped onto the curving portion of the path. “What? It’s just the path -”

Strong arms yanked her back and she whirled around, caught in the gaze of a fierce-looking Thorin Oakenshield. “Thorin, what -”

“You almost stepped into the ravine!”

Frowning, Arya shook her head at him. “There’s no ravine there, Thorin, it’s just the path.”

 “It is the wood, Miss Callahan. It seeks to lead you astray. The path is not there.”

“Yes, it is! I’ll prove it, just -” She tried to turn around and continue down the path, but Thorin dragged her into his arms in response, locking them tightly around her.

“I will not lose you,” he rushed out, his voice a deep growl.

She felt something inside her chest begin to squirm. “Thorin, I -”

“Trust me, my lady,” he murmured, his eyes frantically searching her own for some sign of delusion.

_You knew this was coming. Just go with it, Arya._ Arya sighed, relaxing in his grasp. _“_ All right. I trust you.”

Something in his expression relaxed, and she found his grip on her lessening somewhat, although his arms were still wrapped around her. “Stay close to me, Miss Callahan. I will keep you safe.” Thorin turned back around, dropping one of his arms. The other remained wrapped securely around her waist, and he led her off the path towards his “search party”, comprised of Balin, Bilbo and Dwalin, who had a suspiciously contemplative look on his face as he watched Thorin and Arya approach. “Now, where were we?”

\--

“I don’t remember this place before. None of its familiar.”

“It’s got to be here.”

“What hour is it?”

“I do not know. I don’t even know what day it is.”

Arya groaned from her Thorin-decreed spot on the ground next to a bush of white berries. She slid further down, leaning all her weight on her pack. “It’s almost midnight, we’ve been in the woods for three days now, and the path is a few kilometers to the left.”

Everyone ignored her.

_DWARVES._

“Is there no end to this accursed place?”

“Look! A tobacco pouch! There’s dwarves in these woods!”

“Dwarves from the Blue Mountains, no less. This is exactly the same as mine.”

Arya groaned again, dropping her head into her hands. “Oh. My. God.”

Bilbo was the only one of her companions with any sort of sense left, and therefore, was the only one to reply sensibly to Dori’s “discovery” of dwarves in the woods. “Because it is yours. Do you understand? We’re going around in circles. We are lost.”

“We’re not lost. We keep heading east.”

“But which way is east? We’ve lost the sun.”

A sudden _snap! s_ ounded out from behind Arya. She whirled around on the ground, eyes narrowing at the shadows. “Uh, guys -”

“ - shimmy up the trees, see what you can see -”

“ - going up the trees over my dead body!”

The shadows behind her _moved._ A large, spindly leg stepped into the clearing, and Arya felt a scream tears it way out of her lungs. “SPIDERS!”

It was as if they were waiting for her signal. A horde of spiders rushed into the clearing all at once, catching Nori, Ori, Gloin and Bombur off-guard. Dwalin began ordering the others around as he all but pushed Bilbo behind him, out of the spiders’ path.

“Grab a leg!”

“Pull!”

“Aim for the eyes!”

“ARYA!”

Her spider, the arachnid she’d first seen crawling out of the shadows, was practically running towards her – and fast. Arya screamed at herself in her mind, forcing her legs to work, to get up, to run, to do something, but she was frozen.

"ARYA!” Thorin’s voice was closer this time. She forced herself to turn and look for him. He was sprinting in her direction, slicing at anything that got too close -

But then she felt one of the spider’s pinchers wrap around her ankle, and she was flying out of the clearing, up and away, far out of the reach of the dwarves and into the lonely darkness of the forest. And as Thorin screamed again, she felt something cold seep into her leg, and she knew nothing more.

 

 

 


	14. The Woodland Realm

Tauriel stood silently on top of the gate, eyes shut as she breathed in the cool night air. The King was still interrogating the leader of the dwarves they had rescued from the wood, and the cool stone of the fortress barely muffled their spat. _Thorin Oakenshield._ It had been many years since she had even thought of that name. However, if the sheer volume of his argument with the King was any indicator, the elves of the Woodland Realm had never been far from _his_ thoughts. Although, if he was telling the truth, she couldn’t entirely blame him.

_“You must help us! One of our company is missing!” The young blonde dwarf had begged, grasping hold of Legolas’ sleeve. The Elven Prince had just wrenched the dwarf’s hand off of his person, sneering all the while._

_“One of your company is missing? Who?”_

_“A lady, a member of our company – she was taken by the spiders!”_

_"A lady? Travelling with your company?” Legolas had snorted, turning to look at the rest of the guards in amusement. “You are not just thieves, but liars as well."_

_The dwarves had all started to shout angrily at this. The most distinguished-looking of the dwarves, Thorin Oakenshield, had grabbed hold of her arm at Legolas’ outburst, dragging her towards him. “You must believe us. She is in danger,” he rasped out hurriedly._

_“Who?” She’d asked in reply. Thorin had no chance to answer; Legolas had all but thrown him towards the front of the group, removing him entirely from Tauriel’s presence._

_“Do not listen to their lies, Captain,” he ordered quickly, a cool glint in his eyes. Tauriel could only nod in reply and fall in line behind him, ignoring the exclamations of the dwarves as they marched back towards the Woodland Realm._

The dwarves had murmured about the lost girl the entire length of the journey. They grew silent upon reaching the doors to King Thranduil’s fortress, but Thorin Oakenshield had shot her a final, piercing gaze before being dragged into the King’s presence by Legolas.

There was just something about the look in his eyes that had shaken Tauriel to her core. She’d excused herself from the King’s chambers, needing to get as far away from those dwarves – and her elves – as she possibly could manage. And yet, as she stood there on the gate, that uncomfortable echo continued to reverberate in her chest.

Sighing, she shut her eyes and began to pray. _Varda, by the light of the stars, may I remember where I saw those eyes._

And all of a sudden, it came to her.

“ _You must promise me something.”_

_"Anything.”_

_The queen had sighed deeply at this, motioning for Tauriel to follow her. The two women began to walk through the woods, the queen’s steps growing tired with exertion. They remained silent, content to listen to the birds chirping amongst the trees until Tauriel could no longer hear the voices of the Elven Guard. “The day will come when my child will wander into these lands."_

_“Your child? But Legolas is -”_

_“Not Legolas. My daughter, begotten long before I met Lady Galadriel. I do not know when or why, but I know in my bones that it is her destiny to travel to this realm as well.” The queen had turned to face her abruptly, her dark hair dancing in the Greenwood’s breeze. “My hours are numbered, and I cannot sustain myself until she arrives. Watch over her in my absence, as you would watch over your own.”_

_“I promise, my queen.”_

_“Do not promise me because I am your queen,” she’d rebuked sharply, her eyes growing desperate with some vision that Tauriel could not see. “Promise me because I am your friend.”_

_At that, Tauriel smiled sadly, nodding at her. “Of course, my lady.”_

_“No, not ‘my lady’. Elbereth.”_

_“Of course, Elbereth. I promise.”_

_“_ Captain Tauriel?” The sound of a guardsman broke past the echoes of memory, and she turned to look at her lieutenant. “King Thranduil is requesting our presence.”

“Thank you, Haladen,” she replied quietly. “I shall join you shortly.”

Haladen nodded, disappearing back into the warmth of Thranduil’s fortress. Tauriel’s eyes dropped towards the ground as she looked away. “Elbereth,” she murmured sadly. “How I wish you were here, my friend.”

A sudden stirring snapped through the branches. Frowning, Tauriel looked up at the trees, watching as they seemed to move towards her. And as they moved, a voice, so quiet she could barely hear it, seemed to be carried by the branches on the breeze, its words only intelligible when the breeze finally met and gusted around her.

_Watch over her in my absence, as you would watch over your own._

“Elbereth?” Tauriel leapt to her feet.

_Promise me._

Grabbing hold of her bow and quiver, Tauriel slung it around her shoulder and leapt off of the bridge without a second thought, disappearing into the darkness of the trees below.

\--

Arya awoke with a gasp. She blinked groggily, feeling the remnants of her tears in her eyes. Shaking her head, she focused on her breathing, on inhaling and exhaling and not on the almost pitch-black darkness that surrounded her -

She was plastered against a large branch, her body at a precipitous angle over the forest floor below. Shadows flickered beneath her, and with every motion she felt her stomach drop more and more. A scream tore its way out of her throat before she could stop it. Well, it tried to tear its way out. She’d been all but gagged, wrapped in a sticky netting that held her limbs together.

_Okay, just stay calm, just try and stay calm -_

Something creaked and clicked behind her.

She panicked.

She began to shout against her restraints, wiggling as hard as she possibly could, hoping and praying that she’d get caught, somehow, or the dwarves were nearby, or -

A flash of red blurred in front of her eyes, followed by the sound of a scream so high-pitched and grating that the marrow in her bones shuddered. And then, the netting holding her down suddenly gave way, and she all but fell into her savior’s arms.

“Are you all right, my lady?”

Arya gasped back tears, shaking her head. “I’m - I’m fine, I -” she glanced up and her words died in her throat.

A gorgeous redheaded elf was standing in front of her, gently holding Arya in her arms. She was dressed in a short green cloak which almost entirely hid the two daggers strapped to her sides. Her hair was held back by two perfectly pleated braids, and the expression on her face - well, it was one Arya could not read.

“Thank you,” she finally continued, rousing herself out of her blatant staring. “Thank you, so, so much. How did you -”

“You are travelling with the dwarves, yes?”

“Yes,” she nodded quickly. “I take it the King’s found them?”

“Yes,” the elf-maiden replied, her eyes narrowing somewhat. “Were you expecting that?”

“Sort of?” Arya replied before she could stop herself. “I mean, we are in the Woodland Realm, after all, and the dwarves were running around like chickens with their heads cut off, so it was really only a matter of time -”

“What is your name?” Her rescuer interrupted.

“Oh, oh, right, sorry,” she shook her head. Clearing her throat, she pushed her legs up until she was standing and, ignoring the shooting pain coming from the spider-bite, she held out her hand to the elf. “Arya Callahan, at your service.”

The elf froze, her eyes widening almost instantaneously. “ _Na vedui_!”

“I’m sorry?”

Her face broke into a wide smile, and she grasped Arya’s hand tightly. “It is an honor to meet you, Arya Callahan. We have awaited your arrival for quite some time. I am Tauriel.”

“Tauriel,” Arya murmured in reply. “I take it you know my mother?”

"Very well,” Tauriel replied warmly.

Something snapped in the branches behind them. Tauriel’s face grew serious almost instantly, and she whirled around, staring into the darkness. “It is not safe here. The spiders have grown bolder.” She turned back, eying Arya appraisingly. “Can you walk?”

“I think so? I can hobble, at the very least.”

Tauriel studied her for a moment before nodding. “We will make for the guardhouse tonight. Come,” she wrapped her arms around Arya. “It is time for us to leave these trees.”

“Wait, how -”

Tauriel jumped.

\--

Arya held fast to Tauriel’s hand, allowing the elf to lead her through the trees. She’d lost count of their orientation a few hours ago, and although it was entirely irrational, Arya felt like she’d never be free of these trees.

Eventually the darkness became, if possible, thicker than it had ever been. Arya could barely make out Tauriel’s profile a mere two feet in front of her. They came to an abrupt stop. “I fear it is not wise for us to travel farther tonight."

"I’m completely okay with that. Is there a safe spot somewhere?”

"Yes, my lady. I know of one place close by.”

“How far is close? Just out of curiosity.”

Tauriel tugged Arya a few steps forward, and Arya suddenly found herself in a small clearing. Behind them, the trees from whence they came lay pitch-black darkness, but this clearing was free of its burden.

"Here,” Tauriel murmured, her skin almost glowing in the night. “In the haven of the stars. We are safe for the night.”

The miles walked in recent days hit Arya like a freight train. Feeling her knees weaken, she obeyed the call to sleep and laid down without a second thought, and soon she’d drifted off into a peaceful sleep, watched over by the stars in the heavens and a humming, redheaded elf.

\--

The smell of – was that bacon – was what drew her back to consciousness, followed by the sound of a crackling fire. She exhaled deeply as her mind began to stir.

"Good morrow,” Tauriel greeted her. She was seated in front of the small fire, making a breakfast that suspiciously appeared out of nowhere. “How are you faring?”

“Pretty well, I think. All things considered,” she grumbled, shoving herself into a sitting position. “Did you get any rest?”

“Of a kind. Elves do not need the same rest that mortals do. We find our strength through light, and the elves of Mirkwood through the light of the stars. Come,” she said, waving Arya over towards the small fire. “You should eat, and I wish to know how you found yourself in the Woodland Realm.”

\--

“And you killed Azog?” Tauriel repeated.

“Yeah. I think so, anyways. I mean, I don’t think that he would have survived the arrows shot through his head, but Bilbo decapacitated him, so I guess we both did?”

“Then the company of Thorin Oakenshield is in your debt,” Tauriel said slowly. “No wonder they spoke so urgently of your disappearance.”

The dwarves were worried about her. _Thorin_ was worried about her. Something began swirling in her stomach, and she swallowed her breakfast down quickly, eager to get the rest of her words out. “They came to their senses then?”

“Eventually. Meeting with the Elvenking helped with that, I believe.”

Arya winced at the thought. “Yeah, I can imagine that wouldn’t be pretty.”

A noise that sounded suspiciously like a snort issued from Tauriel, but nothing on her face gave away that she had made the noise. Still, it made Arya smile somewhat, and when Tauriel helped her to her feet, she still had that smile on her face. “Come,” Tauriel said, reaching for Arya’s bag, “it is time we return to the Elvenking.”

“About that,” Arya began slowly, internally crossing her fingers. “Do you mind making a slight course adjustment?”

\--

Heading to the river meant an extra day’s journey through Mirkwood, and a short but passionate conversation about needing to get to Erebor, Thranduil be damned, later, her new friend had acquiesced. With Tauriel as a companion, the hours flew by, and before long they crossed the threshold out of the forest, stepping onto a grassy bank at the river’s edge.

“ _Taurë tuine_ , the Forest River,” Tauriel murmured, coming to a stop next to Arya. “She flows through Mirkwood, taking her blessing to the people of Esgaroth, the town upon the Lake.” She glanced down at Arya. “Are you sure you will be all right?”

“Captain Tauriel!” a voice interrupted. Arya and Tauriel turned around in time to see a dark-haired elf rushing towards. “ _Man agórel_?”

“ _Daro,_ Haladen,” Tauriel greeted him, stepping slightly in front of Arya. “Why have you -”

“The dwarves have escaped, captain, and painted orcs have been sighted heading towards the river,” he rushed out. “But that does not answer my question! Where have you been? The King -”

“What orcs?” Arya interrupted him, moving out from behind Tauriel.

Haladen paled the minute he set his eyes upon her. “ _Hiril vuin,”_ he gasped out.

"What?” Arya frowned back at him. The elf simply shot his gaze back towards Tauriel, who just nodded at him in affirmation.

“Tauriel, where -”

“What. Orcs?” Arya practically shouted at the elf, who jumped at the sound. “Were any of them named?”

Haladen glanced between the two women. “I -”

“Answer her question, lieutenant,” Tauriel ordered quickly.

Haladen swallowed quickly before nodding. “Just one, Captain. Bolg, son of Azog.”

  _Fuck._ Arya slumped towards the ground. Thankfully, Tauriel was quick enough to catch her, using her own body to hold Arya up.

“Where are they?”

“Disappeared back into the wood, Captain.”

The two elves began to converse in rapid-fire Elvish, Haladen’s eyes continuously flickering back towards Arya. Finally, Haladen bowed towards Arya before turning around and racing back from whence he came.

“What was that about?” Arya asked, watching as the figure disappeared into the trees.

“To alert the King."

“What? Why?”

“Come,” Tauriel ignored her questions, setting Arya back on her own strength. “It is not safe to linger. We must make for Lake-town.”

“Lake-town? I don’t think I can walk that far.”

“Do not worry, Arya Callahan.” Tauriel wrapped her hand around Arya’s and led her down the river-bank towards a rickety-looking dock, where a dark-haired man stood loading a small, wooden boat. “We will not be walking. Good morning, Bard, son of Girion!”

_Bard?_ The man turned to face the women before Arya had a chance to react. His shoulder-length hair danced on top of his coat, and his eyes were kind, if not slightly confused. “Good morrow, Captain! Is something the matter with your shipment? I saw a fleet of barrels not twenty-minutes ago, and while I cannot be certain, it appeared that they were filled with dwarves.”

“The dwarves are being hunted, as is my charge. Bard, meet Arya Callahan, daughter of Elbereth. Arya, this is Bard, son of Girion.”

Something like realization clicked in Bard’s eyes, and he swept into a bow before Arya could stop him. “It is an honor to meet you, Arya, daughter of Elbereth.”

“The honor is mine,” Arya replied quickly, shooting a confused look at Tauriel.

While Tauriel didn’t respond to Arya’s obvious question about Bard’s behavior, she did take the conversation over before Arya could feel more awkward than she already did. “We need a favor, Bard. May we return with you to Lake-town? Arya was injured in the forest, and the sooner we get away from the pack of orcs, the safer she will be.”

“Of course,” he replied. He held out his hand and Arya took it, gently hopping onto the boat. “That is no favor. Besides, my children will be excited at the prospect of your visit.”

Tauriel smiled as she gently leapt onboard. “The excitement is mine as well. Do you need any help loading your craft?”

“I carried the last of the wine aboard just as you arrived.”

“Excellent. Let us be off.”

 


	15. Lake-town

The journey into Lake-town was much shorter than Arya had initially anticipated. She spent most of the time in conversation with Bard, who was more than willing to discuss the history of Dale, Lake-town, and its ages of trade with the elves of the Woodland Realm. In fact, their conversation had only gotten to the beginning of the Second Age when they reached Lake-town, and had to be indefinitely paused a few minutes later when they reached the dock.

The dock was virtually empty of boatsmen when they reached it, save three arguing – and incredibly familiar – figures.

“ - suppose we go about doing this?”

“ - saying the lass has even survived this long?”

“ - gave our word! Thorin can handle things on his own until we return -”

Arya felt Tauriel’s eyes on her. “Is that?”

Grinning, Arya nodded before leaping onto the dock. “Dori! Nori! Bofur!”

The dwarves whirled around at the sound of her voice and raced towards her. “Lass, ye’re alive!” Bofur sang happily. Racing forward, he wrapped his arms around her in a big hug, and Arya happily hugged him back.

“And in one piece!” Dori chimed in, anxiously looking her over. “How?”

“That is what I’d like to know,” Nori spoke slowly, shooting a look at Tauriel and Bard, who were in the process of stepping away from the boat.

“I owe it all to them. Tauriel, Bard, meet Dori, Nori, and Bofur. They’re three of Thorin’s company, and dear friends.” Bofur blushed happily at that, but Dori and Nori stepped back and shot the elf and human appraising looks before nodding in acknowledgment.

Tauriel just stared at them stonily. Bard, sensing some unease, cleared his throat and stepped forward. “Master dwarves, if I may, do you happen to know why none of the other boatsmen are at their post?”

“The Master has called a meeting,” Nori replied, his eyes not leaving Tauriel. “Thorin is asking the townspeople for their support.”

“Support?” Bard asked, his eyebrows furrowing. “Support in what?”

“In retaking Erebor,” Dori huffed proudly.

Bard froze, his eyes narrowing at the dwarves. “Lead us. Now.”

\--

Once they had an idea of where exactly they were headed, Bard quickly outpaced the dwarves, who, upon noting that Arya was relatively uninjured (excepting the slight limp), took off after him, swearing amongst themselves. Tauriel kept pace with Arya, helping her over unsteady docks when necessary, and a few minutes after they arrived in Lake-town, Arya found herself skidding to a stop on a balcony above the gathering.

Hundreds of people, dressed in all manner of rags, were standing in a circle around the dwarves. And there, in the firelight, stood Thorin, who was loudly declaring his dreams of reclaiming Erebor. But in spite of his heroic posturing and the proud stances of the rest of the company – and Bilbo, Arya noted with some relief – she couldn’t keep her eyes away from the humans surrounding them. They all appeared drawn and worn out, even the youngest among them. Many were dirty, and not covered with enough clothing to protect them from the biting cold of living on the lake.

“It is a tragedy,” Tauriel murmured from next to her. “We do what little we can, but the Master is a cruel man, as were his fathers before him.”

Arya felt something ugly begin to stir in her chest, so she just nodded in reply, afraid to speak further. That was not the case for Thorin, who was reaching the climax of his speech.

“I would see those days return. I would relight the great forges of the dwarves and send wealth and riches flowing once more from the halls of Erebor! I would bring that to you, the honorable men of Lake-town!”

A disturbance in the crowd below caught Arya’s attention, and just as her eyes dropped towards the crowd Bard strode from the midst of it, placing himself in opposition to Thorin. “Death! That is what you will bring upon us. Dragon-fire and ruin. If you awaken that beast, it will destroy us all!”

Arya could practically _feel_ the heat of Thorin’s eyes as he glared at Bard. “You can listen to this naysayer, but I promise you this; If we succeed, all will share in the wealth of the mountain. You will have enough gold to rebuild Esgaroth ten times over!”

The crowd burst into murmurs below, but Bard didn’t back down, instead turning to face the populace. “All of you! Listen to me! Have you forgotten what happened to Dale? Have you forgotten those who died in the firestorm?! And for what purpose? The blind ambition of a mountain-king so riven by greed, he could not see beyond his own desire!” Bard turned back to Thorin, stepping a mere heartbeat away from him. “You have no right, no right to enter that mountain!”

“I have the only right!” He spat before pushing Bard aside. “I speak to the great Master of the men of the Lake. Will you see the prophecy fulfilled? Will you share in the great wealth of our people? What say you?”

The Master preened from his spot on the balcony of the towering City Hall. “I say unto you,” he paused with great effect, shooting a smirk in Bard’s direction, “welcome! Welcome and thrice welcome, King under the Mountain!”

The crowd burst into excited applause and surged towards the company, who began to celebrate amongst themselves. And as Arya watched Dori, Nori and Bofur return to the company, as their cheers became wilder and more excited, as Thorin’s smile grew wide as he stepped into the hollow warmth of the Master’s hall, that ugly thing in her chest flowed into every part of her body.

“It’s starting,” she murmured, unable to tear her eyes away from the scene.

She felt Tauriel’s eyes move upon her. “My lady?”

Arya turned back to face Tauriel so quickly that she almost gave herself whiplash. “We need to find Bard. There’s something you need to know.”

\--

"Wait,” Bilbo’s face dropped as soon as the company had piled into the Master’s hall. “Dori, what are you doing back? You can’t have found Arya already!”

Thorin froze in place, which sent the rest of the dwarves into a frenzy.

“How could ye -”

“ - abandon the poor lass -”

“ - leave ‘er for dead -”

“SILENCE!” Nori shouted, quieting the company. “We did leave to find ‘er, but the lass found us.”

“Just as we were about to acquire a raft, too!”

“What -”

“How?” Thorin spun around, shooting a frantic look at Nori. “How did she escape the wood?”

“An elf.”

"An elf?" Dwalin spat, glaring at spy. “What elf?”

“None other than the Captain of the Elvenking’s Guard,” Nori replied with a smirk. “Seemed fairly interested in the lass too.”

“If she’s been found, then where is she?” Bilbo pushed himself in front of Nori.

“Probably with the elf. They came with that Bard fellow, and once he started running – well, we figured it’d be best to follow him.”

The dwarves all turned to look at Thorin, as if on instinct. His face grew red as he glared at Nori, and all the company held their breaths, waiting for him to snap.

And snap he did.

\--

“How many goblins?”

“Twenty goblins?”

“One hundred goblins?”

“TWO hundred goblins?”

Arya laughed, watching the antics of Bard’s two youngest children, Tilda and Bain, as they wriggled to get a better look at Arya as she recounted her travels with the dwarves.

“Tilda, Bain, that is quite enough. It is well past your bedtime, after all,” he said. He leaned down with a grin, scooping a now squealing Tilda into his arms, and handed her off to Sigrid, his eldest daughter. “Sigrid, if you will.”

“NO -”

“I DON’T WANNA -”

“If you go quietly, I will sing you a song of the stars,” Tauriel chimed in. Bain and Tilda quieted down immediately, and the elf followed the children upstairs to their bedroom, a small smile on her face.

“Now,” Bard said, turning and shooting an appraising look at Arya, “what is it you wanted to tell me?”

She sighed, motioning for him to join her near the fireplace. “It’s a long story.”

“I have time.”

\--

The three adults sat in silence. Well, Tauriel stood in silence. She’d taken up her post near the fireplace once the children were in bed, and had listened intently to Arya’s narration, her old eyes glued on the young woman. Bard was staring at the burning embers of the small fire in the fireplace. He hadn't spoken since Arya had finished her tale.

“You’re certain? About the beast?”

Arya nodded quickly, that sinking feeling in her stomach becoming too familiar to comfort. “As certain as I can be. This sort of thing – it's not perfect, but it’s been mostly right so far. Some of the details have been different, but the major plot – uh, events have been mostly the same.”

Bard’s brow furrowed. He turned his gaze towards Tauriel, whose eyes flickered to her friends. “This does not surprise you.”

“No,” she replied solemnly. “Lady Elbereth had the same foresight.”

“Indeed.” He leaned back into his chair with a sigh, dropping his head into his hand. “And there is no way of stopping it.”

“There is a way. That’s why I wanted you to know,” she rushed out. “The black arrows – if I’m right, then that weakness in his chest can be exploited. If he’s pierced by one of the black arrows there -”

“The legends are true then,” Bard sat up suddenly, murmuring in concentration.

“It’s your only chance.”

Bard’s eyes snapped towards her. “Why?”

Arya frowned, looking at Tauriel for clarification. “I’m sorry?”

“Why are you telling me this?”

Arya’s gaze flickered back to Bard, and she began anxiously rubbing her hands together. “Well -”

“Quiet,” Tauriel held up her hand, starting the pair. “A dwarf approaches. I will head him off.” She practically dived out of the open window, and soon after Arya heard the quiet voice of Tauriel argue with the frustrated voice of Nori.

“Please, answer my question,” Bard dropped his voice into a murmur. “Why are you telling me this?”

“Because your people don’t deserve what happens next,” she replied quickly, a lump in her throat. Bard’s eyebrows lifted into his forehead, but she continued anyways. “When I came here - when I decided to come here, it was with the understanding that I would serve some sort of purpose. I’ve known how this journey is supposed to end from the beginning. But I was never part of the vision before, and now that I’m here, I can't - I won't -” her throat caught, and Arya shook her head for a few moments before continuing on. “If, by being here, I can save lives, then I’m going to do whatever I can to do so.”

“Save lives? How would you save lives?”

“Back home – in my other world – I'm a trained nurse, specialized in trauma care. Should the need arise, I’ll be able to perform surgeries that your best medics wouldn’t be able to. At the very least, I have to try. The dwarves deserve that, and your people deserve that. I won’t lose anyone else, not without a fight.”

At that, Bard sat back into his chair, but his eyes never left her. “You speak of loss as if you are familiar with it.”

 “My grandfather,” she murmured. “He was the only family I had. I lost him not too long ago, and once I did – I had nothing. Nothing that really mattered, anyway. That’s why I came on the journey with the dwarves. It wasn’t for gold or for glory, it was that maybe I would find some place where I belonged, with people I belonged to. And I have a place, with the dwarves.” That ugly thing clawed at her lungs again, and she turned to face the fire. “At least, I do right now.”

“What do you mean?”

“The gold. It will infect them.”

Something low rumbled in Bard’s chest. “Thorin Oakenshield will go back on his word.”

Arya didn’t respond. She couldn’t; she just shut her eyes.

“He will bring doom upon us, then. Upon our people.”

“No,” Arya murmured. Something, the rough outline of a shape of a plan appeared in her mind, and Arya’s eyes flew back open. “No,” she murmured. “He won’t.”

“How can you be so certain?”

“Because,” she continued, turning to meet Bard’s gaze, “I am guaranteed one-fifteenth of the share of the treasure. I will hold my claim as yours should something bad happen.”

Bard’s eyebrows rose again. “You would do that? For the people of Lake-town?”

“Yes,” she nodded decisively. “And so you have a guarantee -” she reached for her bag and dug around, her fingers finally landing upon the square frame. “Here,” she said, pulling the photograph of her and her grandfather out of the bag. She handed it to Bard, who looked at it questioningly.

“What is this?”

“That is the only picture of my grandfather that I brought with me. It’s my most important possession. And, until your people receive the aid you need, it’s yours.”

Bard dropped the picture into his lap, shock plainly written across his face. “I cannot accept this.”

“I want you to,” she replied with a nod. “This is my word. No matter what happens, I will keep my promise.”

Bard picked the picture back up and clenched it in his hands. His eyes never left Arya’s, and she could see them begin to water. “You have my thanks, Arya Callahan,” he replied quietly. “I know – I know how important these things are to we who have lost. It will be safe with me.”

She nodded slowly, taking one last look at her grandfather’s smiling face. She was about to speak further when Tauriel flew back in through the window.

“The dwarves plan to leave tomorrow,” she announced, shooting a quick look between Arya and Bard. “I made it clear to the thief that under no circumstances will you be staying in the Master’s house.”

“Of course not,” Bard said with a sharp clearing of this throat. “The man is a pig.”

Tauriel smirked at him in reply before shooting a concerned look at Arya. “It’s time that you get some rest. You still have a few days’ journey to the mountain.”

Nodding, Arya stood and held out her hand to Bard. “Thank you for your hospitality, Bard. I really appreciate it.”

“No, my lady,” he said, rising to his feet, “the appreciation is all mine. Sleep well, you have earned it.”

Smiling, Arya squeezed his hand and made her way up the stairs. As soon as she disappeared into the bedroom, Bard turned to face Tauriel. “Did you hear our conversation?”

“Enough,” she murmured in reply. “This will not be easy on her, or any of us.”

“No,” he replied softly, turning to look at the empty staircase, “but in spite of that, I find that I have hope.”

“As do I, my friend. As do I.”


	16. The Desolation of Smaug

“Do you have to leave?” Tilda pouted.

Smiling, Arya wrapped the six-year-old up in a tight hug before setting her back on the ground next to Bain and Sigrid. “I do, but I’ll be back to visit before you know it.”

“And with stories?”

“And with stories.”

“Promise?”

“I promise.”

“And I promise that if you don’t make your way to the boats with Tauriel, she will leave you behind,” Bard said, a forced smile on his face. The children squealed, racing by him and out the door towards the waiting elf.

It had taken the better part of the early morning, but Arya had finally convinced Tauriel to stay behind and help the people of Lake-town.

_“Besides,” she’d said as Bard poured her a cup of black coffee, “I may need someone on the outside.”_

_“Surely you don’t think the dwarves would trap you in the mountain?”_

_“Faced with all that gold? I have no idea what they’ll do.”_

With one final look at Bard’s home, Arya swept her bag onto her back and followed the children out the door. Tauriel was waiting there for her, and pulled Arya into a quick hug, kissing her gently on the forehead.

“May the blessings of the Valar be upon you, Arya Callahan,” she murmured before pulling away.

“And upon you, Tauriel,” Arya replied. Tauriel pulled away, and with a quick exchange in the Elvish tongue to Bard, Tauriel and Bard’s children made their way across the docks and towards the boats.

“Come,” said Bard, motioning for Arya to follow him. “The Master will be sending them this way.”

The walk-through Lake-town, while slightly chaotic, took a relatively short amount of time. There was a bit of an incident with a fishmonger and a spoiled shipment of trout, but besides that brief episode most of the civilians ignored her – and Bard, which was a new development, he’d muttered under his breath. All too soon, Bard came to a stop.

“They’ll be waiting for you just around the corner, on the shore.” He turned to face her, his eyes examining her closely. “Be safe. I do not trust them, and with good reason, it seems.”

“I will,” she nodded, adjusting the straps on her bag.

“Promise me,” he murmured, a fierce gleam in his eyes.

Something warm swam inside her bones, and before she could think further, she’d thrown her arms around Bard in a hug. “Only if you do.”

He huffed out a breath, but wrapped his arms around her anyways. “I promise.”

“Good. I promise too.” She let herself exhale deeply, taking just that one, final breath before the plunge, and reluctantly pulled herself away. His eyes held an indescribable expression, and she was sure hers held the same.

“ - running late -”

“ - never have trusted that blasted elf -”

Arya felt herself grin in spite of everything. Leaning forward, she pressed a quick kiss to Bard’s cheek. “Good luck,” she whispered. Then, pulling away, she shot him one last smile and rounded the corner, stepping onto the docks towards the shore.

“ - keep the time, they have so much of it -”

“Arya? ARYA!”

Her grin was in full effect as she raced down the dock. Fili, Kili and Ori sprinted back towards the dock, and just as her feet touched solid ground, she was swept up into Kili’s arms, who then proceeded to all but drag her away from the rest of the dwarves.

“Oi, she’s my human, get your own!”

“KILI, YOU PUT HER DOWN RIGHT THIS INSTANT, OR SO HELP ME,” Bilbo hollered, shoving past the rest of the dwarves who were swarming her. The minute he laid eyes on her, his face crumpled, and Arya all but threw herself out of Kili’s embrace and towards Bilbo, sweeping him up into her arms.

“Bilbo! You’re okay, thank God -”

“I'm okay? _I’m_ okay? The only person worth celebrating about is you, young lady!” He scolded her loudly, ignoring the guffaws of the dwarves. “You could’ve been killed at the hands of those horrid, awful things!”

“Please, us Callahans are stubborn Irish women. We can’t be gotten rid of that easily. Or did you forget the Lobelia incident?”

“As if I ever could!” He began to wiggle, and Arya gently set him back on the ground, where he proceeded to wipe the dirt off of his jacket, fussing all the while. Laughing, Arya looked up at the rest of the group, and was about to greet Bifur when Thorin stepped through the pack.

“Miss Callahan,” he murmured, an unfamiliar glow in his eyes.

And there it was again, that warm swimming in her chest. She felt her smile grow wider in spite of herself. “Thorin -”

And then his arms were around her, and she was surrounded by his warmth, and that warm thing inside of her chest seemed to flood the rest of her body, and she wrapped her arms back around him, holding onto him with all she had, breathing in his scent, in his joy, in _Thorin_ -

“Thank Mahal,” he murmured lowly into her ear. “I was so afraid -”

“Ahem,” Balin cleared his throat loudly, interrupting whatever else Thorin was going to say. It was probably for the best; Thorin’s whisper had made something inside her quiver with knowledge that she couldn’t face, not now, not yet. “As lovely as this reunion has been, we best get a move on if we wish to make Erebor by the morrow.”

Thorin released her quickly, spinning around in place so fast that Arya couldn’t see the look on his face. If anything could be derived from the snickering coming from his heirs, then his face was probably as red as hers was.

“Ready the horses,” he hollered, stalking his way back through the dwarves, away from Arya. Balin shot her a knowing wink before following suit, and thankfully the rest of the dwarves were satisfied to do the same.

“You can ride with me,” Bilbo said, leading Arya by the elbow towards a dapple-gray mare. “You have quite a lot of explaining to do.”

\--

The party was in high spirits that day. They had assumed their previous positions, meaning Bilbo and Arya were delegated to the back of the company, riding alongside Ori. The only person displeased with this arrangement was Dwalin, who spent so much time turning back to glare at Arya that she almost wondered if she had gravely insulted him in some manner.

“Do you know why Dwalin is glaring at me?” She murmured to Bilbo. Bilbo began to fidget almost instantaneously.

“It doesn’t have anything to do with you,” he assured her quickly. “It has to do with me.”

Frowning, Arya glanced down at the hobbit in front of her. “Really? What did you do?”

Bilbo shot a look at Ori, who was thankfully riding a bit ahead of them, deep in discussion with Bifur about some matter. “Later, if that’s all right.”

Sighing, Arya leaned back in the saddle. “Okay.”

Bilbo was silent for a few moments before turning to look at her. “Are you all right? You seem distressed.”

“I’m fine,” she replied, forcing a tired smile onto her face. “I’m just worried, that’s all.”

“You and me both,” Bilbo replied with a snort, turning back to look at the dwarves ahead of them. “The way they’re acting, you’d think they’d already retaken the mountain!”

The dwarves burst into loud laughter so suddenly, it was like it was their reply. Thorin’s was the loudest of them all, and the smile on his face sent a shockwave through the dwarves, who began to cheer even louder. His eyes met Arya’s, and his smile grew softer as he gazed at her. Balin said something next to him, and he turned his head back towards the mountain.

“That’s what I’m afraid of,” Arya murmured, the remnants of her smile dropping off her face.

Bilbo didn’t respond this time. He just placed his small hand on top of hers in silent support, and they carried on that way through the night.

\--

It was mid-afternoon on the second day when the company reached the foot of Erebor. Though they had ridden straight through the night, the company was still bursting with energy. They had quieted somewhat when they passed through the ruins of Dale, but upon dismounting the horses their whispers soon began to crescendo.

“Come, men! We must find the door before nightfall, or else all will be lost,” Thorin ordered, swinging his sword across his back.

“Gandalf said to wait for him here. That on no account were we to -”

“Do you see him?” Thorin interrupted Bilbo, shooting him a slightly exasperated look. “We have no time to wait upon the wizard. We’re on our own.”

Arya could feel her heartbeat echoing in the hole in her chest. It was furiously pounding by the time they’d reached the ruins of Dale, and now that they were so close to gaining the mountain it had become an ever-present drumming in her blood. “Come on, Bilbo,” she murmured, sliding onto the ground. “We have to stick with them.”

Bilbo grumbled to himself, but allowed Arya to help him down off the mare. Of course, as soon as his feet touched the ground, Dwalin had all but swept him away, and Arya had to quickly wrap their supplies onto her back if she was going to keep up.

“Are you quite all right, lass?” Arya whirled around to find Balin looking at her expectantly. She nodded, tightening the straps of her bag across her shoulders.

“Mostly. A bit nervous.”

“You would be a fool if you weren’t. And you are no fool, Miss Callahan.” He inclined his head towards her, fully indicating that he was giving her a very specific _look_ at that moment, but what that look meant was not explicitly shared.

Arya opened her mouth to reply, but Balin had started off before she could speak. Her mouth shut with a click, and she turned to look at Ori, who had just walked over. “Any idea what that was about?”

“Lord Balin is wise, Miss Callahan.”

“Okay, that’d be a no, then.”

“I’m afraid so.”

\--

The trek up the mountain was incredibly grueling. Arya almost stopped three separate times to change her footwear, but the dwarves were moving so quickly up the mountainside that she would have fallen completely behind if she didn’t keep moving. Bilbo, for some reason, was being carried up the mountain on Dwalin’s back, and no amount of strange looks she shot in his direction yielded a response from the unusually calm hobbit.

It was early evening by the time they reached the top of the stone-hewn staircase, and Arya all but collapsed upon the ledge, swinging her aching feet over the side of the mountain.

“Anything?”

“Nothing!”

“Not here!”

“If the map is true, then the door lies directly above us.”

The dwarves continued their search well into the sunset, but their efforts yielded nothing. Arya knew that would happen, of course. She just stayed out of their way, drinking water from the canteen in her bag and chugging an iced americano when Ori – her appointed minder, apparently – wasn't looking.

When the sun had passed beyond the horizon, the dwarves fell into a sort of quieted despair.

“All is lost, then,” Thorin mourned, striking his hand against the stone. “Our only opportunity, and it is gone -”

“Wait!” Bilbo interrupted excitedly. “The last light of Durin’s day! The last light – it's not the sun, it’s the moon! And look – look there! It’s the keyhole!”

Arya pushed herself to her feet, turning to watch as the first rays of the moon’s light illuminated the small keyhole on the side of the mountain. The company broke into loud cheers, and Dwalin swept Bilbo up into his arms, planting a kiss on the hobbit’s lips.

“Well done, well done Master Baggins!”

“Excellent work -”

“ - couldn’t have done it without you -”

“I’m sorry, what?”

The dwarves completely ignored Arya’s outburst – and Dwalin kissing Bilbo, apparently. Bilbo, of course, heard Arya’s screech, and turned to shoot her a sheepish look. She just quirked her eyebrow, as if to say, _oh, are WE talking later._

“The keyhole! We’ve found it!”

“This must be the keyhole to the hidden door!”

_Oh my God,_ Arya groaned, dropping her head into her hands at Kili’s exclamation.

“Come, come Balin! The key!” The white-haired dwarf handed Thorin the key and stepped back. Thorin slowly, reverently, stepped towards the stone wall. He inserted the key, and with a mighty shove, the stone wall swung open, revealing a dark passageway.

“Erebor.”

The company fell into silence, staring in awe at the entrance to Erebor. Thorin, almost shaking, stepped forward through the doorway. “I know these walls,” he murmured, tears in his voice. Arya stepped closer to the group, watching as Thorin held onto the mountain as if it would fall apart if he wasn’t touching it. “These halls. This stone. Do you remember Balin?” He said, turning around to look at his friend. “These halls were filled with golden light.”

“I remember,” Balin replied in a broken voice. He stepped closer, and the dwarves followed suit, stepping through the entrance of the mountain into the small alcove within. Bilbo stayed back, watching as each of the company began to tear up at the sight.

“Home,” Dwalin murmured, stepping past Bilbo, and something inside Arya broke. She made her way to Bilbo’s side. Upon reaching him, she grabbed hold of his hand and squeezed, not bothering to fight the tears in her eyes.

“Look, Kili – runes,” Fili whispered as he led his brother through the doorway.

“Aye, lad,” Gloin rumbled in assent, turning his head towards the inscription inside the mountain. “Herein lies the seventh kingdom of Durin’s Folk. May the heart of the mountain unite all dwarves in defense of this home.”

“Come, Master Baggins,” Balin waved for Bilbo. “There is something you need to see.”

Bilbo turned to look at Arya. She nodded at him, and with a final squeeze of her hand, he made his way through the doorway and into the small alcove.

“Miss Arya? Would you like to join us?” Ori murmured, poking his head out of the doorway.

“No, I’m fine – I need a bit of air,” she murmured back. He nodded slowly, but disappeared back into the alcove anyways.

Exhaling deeply, Arya pressed her back against the stone of the mountain and listened.

“This, Master Baggins, is the throne of the King.”

“Oh. And what is that above it?”

“The Arkenstone.”

The thrumming in Arya’s chest stopped, and her eyes slid shut in response.

“The Arkenstone. And what is that?”

“That, Master Burglar, is why you are here.”

“You want me to find a jewel?”

“A large white one, yes.”

“Aren’t there many large, white ones -”

“This one is special, lad. You’ll know it when you see it.”

Arya threw herself forward towards the door, almost bowling over Ori as she made her way in. “Wait!” Shoving past Dori and Oin, she threw her arms around Bilbo. “You don’t have to do this.”

“Arya,” he murmured, his hands attempting to pat her back comfortingly, “I -”

“She’s right, _azyungel,”_ Dwalin spoke up. Arya turned to look at the warrior, and seeing the fearful expression on his face, felt something click into place. _Oh. “_ There’s no shame in saying no.”

“No, I – Dwalin, I gave my word.”

“Then I’ll go with you,” Arya rushed out, squeezing Bilbo even tighter. “You don’t have to do this alone.”

“What? No – no,” Bilbo said, pushing himself out of Arya’s arms. He shot her a stern look, almost going so far as to shake his finger at her. “You did your part. You got the dwarves here safely, and in good health. This is what I’m meant to do.”

Arya nodded, swallowing the tears that were threatening to overtake her. “I know it is. Just – be careful,” she murmured. Leaning forward, she pressed a kiss to his forehead and all but ran out of the alcove and into the night air.

“It never ceases to amaze me,” Balin’s voice carried out into the night air.

“What?”

“The courage of hobbits. Go now, Master Baggins, with as much good fortune as you can muster.”

The tears she held back slid down her face, and Arya all but collapsed onto the ground. Heavy footsteps were heard behind her, and she turned around just in time to see a stormy-looking Dwalin sit down next to her. “Now, we wait,” he muttered, staring into the night in front of him. His hand found hers, and he wrapped his large fingers through hers. The two of them sat there, staring into the night as the rest of the dwarves fussed behind them.

\--

It had felt like forever, but was probably only twenty minutes when the mountain beneath them shook to life. Dwalin leapt to his feet, pulling Arya with him, and the two looked at each other, horrified, before racing towards the alcove.

The rest of the company was just as upset.

“We need to go in there!”

“Not yet!”

“What about Bilbo?”

“Give him more time, Balin. He is not lost yet.”

“More time for what?” Dwalin roared, throwing himself in front of Thorin. “To be killed?”

A loud roar issued forth from the mountain, which sent Dwalin charging towards Thorin. It took Dori, Nori, and Bombur to stop him, but he fought their hold all the wild, cursing them madly in khuzdul. Thorin merely gazed at him coolly, and upon seeing Thorin’s expression, Arya felt the pit in her chest open up again.

“Thorin, this is madness -”

“You are not yourself -”

“Please.”

The dwarves quieted down almost instantly as they turned to face Arya. Thorin’s eyes shifted to her, and his gaze softened as he looked at her. “Miss Callahan -”

“Please,” she whispered again, tears in her eyes. “He needs your help.”

Another roar echoed through the mountain, this one louder than the last. While the other dwarves scrambled to regain their footing, Thorin merely stared at Arya, an unreadable expression on his face. Then, he spoke.

“Gather your weapons. We go. Now.”

The dwarves leapt to action, shoving her as they ran back to gather their weapons. Thorin, who had his sword on hand, turned as if to head down the corridor, and suddenly that feeling in her chest, that knowing, came rushing back to her, and Arya knew that this was the point of no return, and if this was to be the last moment she had with Thorin, _her_ Thorin, as she truly knew him to be, then she had to make it count.

Running faster than she thought she could, she’d reached Thorin and dragged him back in the blink of an eye. Growling, he turned to face her -

And she surged forward, pressing her lips against his. Reaching up, she grabbed his face, holding it gently in her hands as she kissed him like her life depended on it, like she would never get the chance to again, like she was trying to rid her lungs of oxygen so he could breathe -

And his sword clattered on the ground as he wrapped his arms around her waist, holding her flush against his body, so tightly and tenderly that it would take an act of God to separate them -

And then hands were pulling Thorin away, but his eyes were locked on her, bright and shining with something she’d never seen before. He made a move to reach for her again, but he was wrenched away by Dwalin. “Later,” he growled, handing Thorin his dropped sword. “Ori, stay with the lass.” And with that, Dwalin all but dragged Thorin down the corridor, Fili and Kili flanking their uncle.

“Well done, Miss Callahan,” Balin said with a wink before racing after them. Bofur and Nori made exaggerated kissing noises, but the rest of the dwarves merely nodded in acknowledgment as they sprinted after Thorin into the mountain.

As they followed their king.

Chest heaving, Arya turned to look at Ori, who was gaping at her. “If you want to, you know, go fight the dragon,” she wheezed, pointing towards the corridor, “you can. I’ll stay here, I promise.”

“And face Thorin’s wrath? I don’t think so,” he murmured. “Come. Let’s get some air. We’ll be safer outside.”

\--

Sitting in the night air was even worse this time. Although it was undoubtedly an even shorter amount of time than before, knowing that they were all in the mountain – her friends, her Bilbo, _her Thorin –_ made every second agony. It was a good thing they were sitting outside; Arya probably would have collapsed without the proper ventilation before long if they remained inside.

They were sitting in silence when it happened.

The mountain shook, and a great roar issued forth from the mountain, and then the sound of cracking rocks broke through the night sky, and Arya watched in horror as a shadowy beast hurled itself out of the mountain, headed straight for the lake.

Towards the people of Lake-town.

Towards Bard.

“No,” Arya gasped, stumbling to her feet.

A cloud of fire burst into the air, and Arya screamed as the dragon descended upon Lake-town. “No. NO!” She threw herself towards the stairs, intent on rushing down, on heading towards the dragon, towards Lake-town, but Ori wrapped his arms around her and held her back.

“Miss Callahan, there is nothing you can do,” he said, ignoring her desperate attempts to escape his grasp.

Another cloud of fire burst forth, and the city on the lake began to blaze. Arya screamed again, and pushed against Ori with all her might, but it was to no avail. She could only watch as it swept up into the air, and just as it headed straight down towards the fiery village, it jerked to the side. With a final roar, the dragon scrambled for the air before crashing, motionless, upon Lake-town.

Arya stilled, and Ori’s grasp lessened. “Can it be?”

“They did it,” she murmured. “They killed Smaug.”

“They killed Smaug? He’s dead. He’s dead!” Ori pulled away and raced towards the corridor, hollering down to anyone who could hear him. “Smaug is dead! The great beast has fallen!”

Arya stood frozen for only a moment. Scooping up her bag, she all but leapt for the staircase, taking them two at a time, but it wasn’t fast enough. The sound of returning dwarves filled the night air.

“ - ravens will spread the news! Erebor belongs to the dwarves!”

“ - Miss Callahan need to join us, we’re all safer – where is she?” Dwalin’s voice thundered.

“She was just there – Arya! Arya, wait!”

She ignored Ori’s shouts, racing down the second flight of stairs. Dwalin hollered something, and a loud thud echoed behind her just as she reached the lower overhang.

“Miss Callahan, what are ye doing?” Dwalin asked from behind her, grabbing her by the waist.

“The people of Lake-town,” she gasped, struggling against his hold. “They need my help -”

“Aye, but we need ye more lass,” he replied calmly. Taking her arms, he turned her around so she was facing him. “This is a dragon’s lair, Miss Callahan,” he murmured sharply, “and there is a curse upon this gold. We need ye. Thorin needs ye, if he’s going to keep his head. Please.”

A tear fell down Arya’s face, but she nodded. “Those poor people -”

“I know, lass,” he said, wrapping her in a warm hug. “I know. Now, come. Thorin is anxious for you to see Erebor.”


	17. Erebor

Erebor was huge.

No, that was an understatement.

Erebor was, quite possibly, the largest hewn city to ever exist.

It was beautifully ornate. Each of the many pillars were delicately carved with an array of dwarfish designs, and the city seemed to stretch both higher and deeper than the mortal eye could see. The stairs leading into the center of the mountain seemed endless, and were objectively completely terrifying because apparently dwarves were allergic to common sense.

“Seriously, with all the gold in this mountain, no one thought to install some handrails?” Arya complained anxiously as she made her way further into the mountain. Dwalin took up his position behind her – most likely to make sure that she didn’t run again – and consequently was forced to listen to her mindless babble about handrails for a solid twelve minutes.

“This has to be some kind of workplace hazard violation. I can’t even imagine what the insurance premiums would be like,” she continued as they walked past a towering hill made entirely of gold coins. It was stunning to look at, but something about it made Arya feel queasy, and so she focused on moving ahead and on not falling off of the stairs and dying instead.

“First order of business, you need to install handrails literally everywhere. What if you have a bunch of kids all of a sudden? We can’t have the kids falling into a valley of rubies! Handrails, Dwalin. You need to install some handrails. Maybe even fences. Or an elaborate gating system? Whatever is the most efficient, I guess, but it needs to be strong. Got it?”

Dwalin just grunted behind her.

The stairs _finally_ ended, and as soon as Arya rounded a corner into a large room overlooking the treasure below, a small body flung themselves at her.

“BILBO!” She shrieked, wrapping her arms around the hobbit and swinging him around in a circle. “Thank God you’re okay, I was so worried -”

“Of course, of course, I’m fine,” he murmured, squirming in her grasp. She lessened her hold on him enough for him to pull back and examine her face. “Are you all right?”

“What? Yeah, yes, I’m just – I'm feeling a lot of things right now.”

“Of course, of course,” he murmured, nodding his head rapidly. “I’m just glad that you’re okay.”

“And you’re okay? Smaug didn’t hurt you?” She said, her eyes running over his body.

“Only my pride, I’m afraid.”

Sighing, she released the hobbit and looked at him with watering eyes. “You did it.”

“No, we did it,” he replied, taking her hand in his and squeezing.

"Behold”, Thorin’s voice echoed from behind Bilbo. Arya pivoted just in time to watch the dwarves, minus Dwalin, gather at the ledge of the room, listening intently as Thorin spoke. “Gold beyond measure. Beyond sorrow and grief. The great treasure hoard of Thror. Welcome, my brothers, to the kingdom of Erebor.”

Bilbo raced over to join the group, Dwalin hot on his heels. Arya just stood there, frozen, watching as the Company ooh’d and ahh’d over the riches of Erebor.

It wasn’t that she wasn’t impressed. It wasn’t even the unnerving sensation she felt in her bones when she so much as glanced at the gold that kept her from joining them. No, it was Thorin. Thorin and her god-awful, completely irrational idea -

Thorin pivoted at Dwalin and Bilbo’s arrival, and at Dwalin’s gruff baritone, Thorin’s eyes snapped over to Arya. Something in his face settled as he gazed at her, and with a quick murmur to the dwarves, he swiftly made his way over towards her.

_Okay, stay strong Callahan. Now is not the time to run away._ Grimacing somewhat, Arya stepped forward just as Thorin reached her. “Thorin, I can expl -”

She blinked, and suddenly she was wrapped up in his arms, his mouth plundering her own. Gasping into the kiss, she recovered quickly, and she threw her arms around his neck, giving everything that he could possibly take. He moaned at her touch, his tongue intent on memorizing hers, and the only thought Arya could possibly think was how glad she was that he was holding her upright, because she felt her knees jellify with every caress of his mouth.

Panting, Thorin drew back suddenly, dropping his forehead against hers. Arya just gasped again, trying to catch her breath.

“Stay,” he murmured, his fingers moving in slow circles on her waist.

“What?” She panted, raising her eyes to meet his: brilliant, forget-me-not blue, drinking her in.

“The quest is at an end. You are no longer tied to the Company. Please, Miss Callahan,” his voice dropped as his hands moved up to hold her face. “Stay with us. With me.”

Tears springing to her eyes, Arya was barely able to breathe out a “yes” before Thorin was devouring her again. She smiled into his kiss, holding onto him with all that remained of her strength -

And was rudely pulled out of the moment by the sound of twelve other dwarves – and a hobbit – wildly cheering and clapping. Thankfully, Thorin was distracted by it too, and they broke away at the same moment.

“Congratulations, laddie -”

“ - knew it, didn’t I tell ye -”

“ - ‘ll be fifteen coins, Dori -”

“ - Mahal, Nori, don’t need to rub it in -”

“ - calls for a celebration?”

“No, this calls for a good night’s rest!” Bilbo called out loudly, ignoring the many groans that came his way.

“Bilbo’s right,” Dwalin boomed, stepping towards Thorin. “We rode hard last night.”

“Aye, it’ll be hard to find the Arkenstone if we’re fallin’ asleep,” Balin cut in, shooting Thorin a playful wink -

And that pit in Arya’s chest pulled her in.

Thorin laughed loudly, leaving Arya’s side to pat Balin on the shoulder. “Right you are, Balin. Come, my friends; we will find suitable lodging in the royal wing!”

The group cheered loudly at that. Balin dashed off, heading off Fili and Kili before they could get lost going in the wrong direction. Thorin turned back towards Arya, holding his hand out with a smile. “Come. Let us rest.”

Forcing a smile on her face, Arya took his hand. Thankfully, Thorin was too pleased with recent events to notice that it wasn’t entirely natural, and the pair quickly made their way up the staircase out of the throne room and towards the Eastern side of the mountain. Balin was narrating the entire way to the delight of Fili and Kili, who were all but bouncing between darkened hallways, always trying to see ahead of the other.

“ - chambers of the royal advisor; Dwalin, Oin, Gloin and I will stay here. Bifur, Bofur, Bombur, you’ll take the room on the left; the brothers Ri, the room to the right. Fili and Kili, you’ll stay with your uncle in the King’s quarters, unless Thorin will be staying with -”

“Absolutely not!” Bilbo huffed. “I will be staying with Arya, so the King better not get any ideas,” Bilbo turned around, shooting a glare at Thorin. Thorin looked somewhat abashed, and at his expression, Arya felt an actual, real smile crawl onto her face.

“Of course, of course,” Balin replied with a chuckle. “Bilbo, you may stay with Arya here,” he said, pointing to a door that was to the left of the King’s Quarters. The King’s Quarters were at the head of the hallway, and this door was a small one across from the Ri brothers’ room.

“Quite right,” Bilbo muttered. Turning around, he yanked Dwalin down by the beard, and planted a kiss square on his lips. He pivoted around almost immediately, stalking towards the small door. Dwalin, on the other hand, looked like a deer caught in the headlights.

Arya chuckled to herself at his dumbstruck expression. Then, turning to face her own dwarf, Arya gently took his face into her hands and kissed him, slowly, tenderly. “Good night,” she murmured, pulling away with a small smile.

His eyes shone as he looked down at her, his fingers running gently through her curls. “Good night, **kurdumê**.”

Cocking her head, she shot him a smirk. “Are you going to tell me what that means?”

“Someday,” he replied with a smile. “But not tonight.”

Smiling, Arya took his hand in hers, squeezed, and followed after Bilbo into the small chamber.

\--

“So,” Arya began. It had taken them a few minutes to go through the four large closets in the room and locate the warmest blankets, and a few more beyond that to start the fire in the ancient fireplace. But now the pair, having both used the old dwarven plumbing and gotten cleaned up, were seated in front of the fire, wrapped in layers of fur on top of a makeshift bed of ornately embroidered dresses. “What’s going on with you and Dwalin?”

“Yes, well,” Bilbo cleared his throat, the darkness of the bedroom doing nothing to hide his flushed cheeks, “it’s sort of – well, it’s rather complicated, but – I'm his One.”

Arya frowned. “I’m sorry, his what?”

“His One,” Bilbo repeated, his gaze locked on the fire. “Apparently dwarves – well, they’re like elves in that they have soulmates, sort of. It’s - they believe that Mahal crafts for each and every one of them their perfect partner, and when they find that person, then everything shifts. The Elves believe the same, as far as I know, although they attribute theirs to Varda. There’s sort of a call, to this person? And once the dwarf hears it, it’s only a matter of time.”

“Until what?” Arya murmured.

“Until - well, until they fall in love,” Bilbo finished, his eyes meekly turning towards Arya. “Dwalin didn’t really pay any attention to me before Rivendell, but once he did – he said it was like he couldn’t turn it off. Of course, he didn’t _tell_ me this until we made it to Lake-town, about the whole love piece. I just thought he was being friendly.”

Arya quirked an eyebrow at him.

“Really, really friendly.”

“Mm hmmmm,” she hummed, her face quirking up into a smile. She reached over, grabbing Bilbo’s hands in her own. “I’m so happy for you, Bilbo,” she murmured. “You deserve to be loved by someone amazing, and Dwalin – he's a good man.”

Bilbo relaxed instantaneously, his face spreading into a wide beam. “He is, isn’t he?”

“He really is.”

“Well, I’m not about to share, so don’t get any ideas,” he replied with a laugh. “Besides, you've managed to catch the eye of the King!” Chortling, he turned to face Arya, but at the falling expression on her face, he grew serious. “Arya? Is everything all right?”

“Huh? Oh, yeah, yeah, everything’s fine,” she murmured distantly. Bilbo squeezed her hands sharply, drawing Arya’s attention back towards him. “It’s just – I'm worried.”

“About what? That he’s false in his attentions?”

“No -”

“Do you – are you not – do you not feel the same way?”

“What? No, no I – I -” she cut off, dropping her eyes into her hands, “that’s not it at all.”

“Then what’s the matter?” Bilbo asked, scooting closer to her.

“I’m - I’m afraid. That it’s not going to be enough.”

Bilbo drew back in shock, his eyebrows furrowing into a frown. “Not enough – how can you even say that?”

She mirrored his actions, scooting closer towards him before meeting his gaze. “It’s just – there’s something off about this place, Bilbo. I feel it every time I look at that gold, like, it’s only a matter of time until -” her voice dropped off.

“Until what?” He whispered in reply.

“Something bad happens."

Bilbo’s eyes flickered briefly to his discarded clothing before he looked at her. “Then we will be vigilant. To keep him safe.”

“To keep them all safe,” she amended. And with that, the two friends turned to face the fire and watch the embers die down before finally succumbing to sleep.

\--

The sun was high in the sky and streaming through the solitary window in the stone quarters by the time Arya woke. Grimacing, she sat up upon the mountains of petticoats, only to find a small note laid on top her blankets.

_Arya, the dwarves are awake and headed off to search. I’m going to help. - Bilbo_

_Great. It’s already starting._ Groaning, she pushed herself to her feet, grabbed her bag, and headed towards the small toilet. As she ran through her morning routine – brushing her teeth, washing her face, combing out her hair, putting a touch of make-up on just for the hell of it – her mind was completely occupied by what had happened the night before, and what was to come.

_It’s like what Arwen said; just because it happened in the story, doesn’t mean that it’s going to happen here. You’re here, you can help them keep their heads._

_And what if you can’t?_ A tiny voice in her head replied. Arya froze, taking in her expression in the mirror.

_Then you do what you promised you would: you keep them safe. No matter the cost._

_Even if it’s your heart._

\--

Twenty minutes later, Arya finally swept out of her quarters. The room was much larger than it had initially appeared, and the stonework was inlaid with countless dwarven runes and drawings. The large bed in the center of the room, while covered in dust, looked like the height of comfort, and it took all of her self-restraint not to lay down for another nap. Instead, spurred on by the need for food (and to assure herself that the dwarves hadn’t gone mad), she’d donned the green dress she wore that first day in Hobbiton and headed out. The corridor to the royal wing was thankfully higher than most everything else in the mountain, and so she was able to follow the sounds of hollering dwarves all the way down. All in all, she only got turned around six times, and by the time she stepped back into the throne room, she was feeling very good about herself.

“Arya! Good afternoon!” Balin greeted her with a smile, quickly stepping over from his spot near the ledge. “How are you feeling today?”

“Much better,” she replied with a smile. “I definitely needed a good night’s rest.”

“Aye, so did the rest of us,” he replied with a wink. “Come, Bombur left some food for you.” Motioning with his hand, he quickly led her down a short step of stairs and into what looked like a large dining room. And sure enough, there on the table was a plate of bread and cheese.

“Once you’ve finished, make your way back towards these stairs and head towards the right. You’ll find the rest of the Company in the hoard. Now, if you’ll excuse me, I need to get back to my post.” And with that, Balin bowed and exited from the room.

_The hoard._ Sighing, Arya slumped into one of the chairs, no longer hungry. Still, she forced herself to eat some of the food off of the plate Bombur had made, and a few minutes later she exited the dining hall and turned to the right, quickly descending down a long flight of stairs.

“Any sign of it?!” She heard Thorin’s voice holler out.

“Nothing yet.”

“Nothing here.”

“Or here.”

“Keep looking!”

“The jewel could be anywhere!”

“The Arkenstone is in these halls. Find it!”

“Aye, you heard him!”

“Keep looking!”

“All of you - No one rests until it is found! And know this - If anyone should find it and withhold it from me, I will be avenged!”

Arya came to a stop so quickly she almost careened off the staircase. _There it was._ That tone she’d been fearing. Those words that she knew would come, but that she dreaded with all her heart, even before she’d decided that her heart belonged to Thorin Oakenshield.

Inhaling sharply, she gathered up what was left of her strength and rounded the corner, narrowly avoiding crashing into Thorin. She squeaked as he grabbed hold of her, steadying her on her feet. “Careful,” he murmured, though his eyes were on the gold to their left. “Wouldn’t want you falling in.”

“No,” she murmured, eyes searching his face for any acknowledgment of her presence. “Of course not. Thorin?” She stepped closer to him. “Are you all right?”

“Why wouldn’t I be-” he growled. But as he turned to face her, and his eyes left the gold and met hers, they became clearer. “Arya,” he murmured, his face relaxing. “You’re here.”

“Of course I’m here,” she replied, forcing herself to smile (again). “I said yes, didn’t I?”

“Yes,” he murmured, pulling her flush against him. “Yes, you did.” His left hand freed itself from her waist, and he began to play with her curls, running his hand idly through her hair. “You are – you look – radiant. The fairest of Erebor’s treasures. Come!” He quickly maneuvered her down the corridor, his hand dropping from her hair. “There is something I wish to give you.”

The sounds of the working dwarves faded as Thorin led Arya down a long, darkened hallway. “This is Durin’s forge,” he spoke softly, gesturing to the marble-inlaid stone walls rising above them. “It has been the solace of my kinsman for many ages. It is here where Durin the first forged his axe, and here where he declared Erebor to be the seventh kingdom of the Dwarves.”

“It’s beautiful,” Arya murmured, glancing at the cavernous walls. “This is yours then?”

“My personal forge, yes, and the forge of those who follow after me. But I did not bring you here to witness it,” he said, funneling Arya through a small doorway. “This is what I wished to show you.” Grabbing hold of this torch, Thorin drew it into the small room, and Arya gasped in awe.

The small room was filled with shelves, stacked from floor to ceiling. Each shelf held a veritable host of ornate jewelry. From crowns inlaid with rubies and diamonds to broaches made of sapphire, to delicate bracelets stranded together with emeralds and rings of opals that almost glowed in the dark.

“What is this?” She whispered, stepping further into the room.

“This is the royal treasury, filled with some of Erebor’s finest craftmanship. And now, it is yours.”

Arya momentarily stopped in place before turning to gape at Thorin in astonishment. “What?”

He chuckled, a low, breathy sound. “As I said. This is yours. And it is a mere fraction of your due.”

“Thorin, I,” she blabbed, turning back towards the room, “I - this is your history, and it belongs with your people.”

The dwarf king snorted, and Arya turned back around just in time to see a smirk on his face. “Balin told me you would say that. Fool that I am, I disagreed. Please,” he murmured, stepping closer to her. “Pick something for yourself. As a gift. You will find no better in all of Middle-Earth.”

Arya moved to protest, but Thorin just swept in closer, pressing a warm kiss to the inside of her wrist. “Please,” he murmured.

Nodding slowly, she forced herself to look away from his captivating eyes and survey the room once again. “This is your family’s, then? Did they make all of this?”

“Yes. Many generations of Durins are represented here.”

“What about you? Is any of it yours?”

Thorin stepped past her with a nod, heading towards the lowest shelf in the far-right corner of the room. “I was still young in my craft, and not as skilled as I am today, but my father insisted that these pieces remain.” He crouched down, retrieving a glass box filled with jewels, and set it on the small table in the center of the room.

Arya shot a look at him as she approached. He looked the most alert that she’d seen him since they’d entered the mountain, and in the flickering torchlight Arya almost swore that he looked nervous. Taking a moment to shoot him a comforting smile, her eyes flickered down to the box.

It was practically overflowing with precious gemstones. Several pendants were laid across the top of the box, all too ostentatious for her liking. There were a few cuffs seemingly made out of diamonds, and a rather large broach crafted into the shape of a leaf. She reached towards the leaf and was about to turn it over in further examination when she saw it.

There, hiding underneath the emerald green leaf of Thorin’s broach, was a small ring. Its band was simple, made of pure silver. The metal was formed into two sets of small leaves, inlaid with tiny diamonds. And between the two leaves was a small blue sapphire, cut in a perfect circle.

Gently setting the broach out of the way, Arya reached for the ring and held it up in the torchlight. It was just the right shade of blue – of her precious forget-me-nots, and of the Durin family, and of Thorin -

Bringing it back down, she slipped it onto the ring finger of her left hand.

It fit perfectly.

Smiling, Arya turned to look at Thorin. “This one.”

He was frozen, his eyes locked onto her face. He’d stopped moving the moment she’d picked the ring out of the box, and the look in his eyes - he’d stared at her before, but this was different.

“Thorin?” She frowned, stepping closer to him. “Is everything all right?”

He answered by quickly stepping over to her side and peppering her face with kisses, wrapping his arms tightly around her waist. With every kiss, he murmured something in khuzdul under his breath. “ **Mizimelûh. Sanmelekuh. Gayadê. Uzfakuh.”**

**“** Thorin?” She murmured, smiling in spite of the nausea in her stomach. “What -”

Touching his lips to hers, he kissed her gently before pulling away. “Everything is perfect,” he murmured, taking her left hand and kissing the finger that now held her ring. “You are perfect.”

“ - down this hall –Thorin? Thorin, are you there?”

Thorin dropped her hand with a soft sigh before heading out into the hallway. “Balin! What news?”

“Our search has cleared the first of the Eastern mines, your highness. With your permission, we wish to continue on.”

“Of course,” Thorin replied. “Arya!”

Exhaling quickly, Arya followed after Thorin, coming to a stop in front of the King, Balin, Dwalin and Bilbo. “Dwalin, escort Arya and Bilbo to the dining hall and see that they stay out of harm’s way. Arya, **ghivashel** ,” Thorin turned to her with a low bow, “until tonight.” With that, Thorin and Balin all but raced down the hallway, arguing loudly about the best way to continue combing the Eastern quadrant.

“Something’s wrong. They haven’t stopped working since before dawn.” Bilbo shot a look at Dwalin. “I’m right, aren’t I?” The dwarf’s brow furrowed as he nodded his head.

“Aye,” he grumbled. “Dragon-sickness. ‘Tis a terrible need, a fierce and jealous love. It sent Thror mad. And now it infects the company.”

“Why doesn’t it effect you?” Arya asked, turning to look at the dwarf.

“Because, I’ve got my One with me. When the world starts ta tilt, I just have to see Bilbo and 't evens out.” His eyes glanced over to Arya. “It’s different with Thorin’s folk. That curse is the bane of the Durins. I dun think even ‘is One could stop it. Only slow it down.”

“Well, what if they find the Arkenstone? Will it help them? Will it help Thorin?” Bilbo asked quietly.

“Finding the damn thing would make it all worse. I pray to Mahal it stays lost,” Dwalin grumbled before dropping a kiss on Bilbo’s forehead. “You ‘eard ‘im. Back to the dining room, with the both of ye.”

\--

Arya and Bilbo spent a quiet evening throwing together a haphazard meal for the dwarves. They ate with Dwalin, who remained as their guard, and then sat and waited. And waited. And waited. It was only because Dwalin finally hollered them into submission that the dwarves came at all, and when they did, they simply grabbed a plate of food and headed back down towards the hoard. Thorin himself didn’t show, but Balin grabbed a plate for him before heading back down. And when Balin returned with the stack of empty plates, there was one missing from the count.

And Arya knew whose it was.

It was at that point that Balin ordered (ORDERED!) Arya to head back to her quarters to get rest. She’d protested, and Balin’s normally kind face had grown hardened and stern, and it was only through Bilbo’s placating and Balin’s insistence that Dwalin remain at his post as guard that she finally allowed herself to be led away by a babbling Bilbo Baggins.

Since Dwalin was stuck on protection detail for the foreseeable future (which _still_ confused Arya), Bilbo opted to sit outside and keep him company. Therefore, when Arya finally laid down that evening, it was alone, save for the small flickering fire in the fireplace. And when the loud arguing of the dwarves drew her back into consciousness, she was still alone.

“Wha?” She grumbled, forcing herself up into a sitting position. The fire had all but dwindled down into a pile of embers. Groaning, she grabbed some of the nearby tinder and coaxed the fire back to life.

“ - heard ‘im, men! Step to it!”

“ **Du bekâr! Du bekâr!”**

Arya dropped the kindling in her hands into the fire and rose to her feet, wrapping her blanket around her shoulders. “Bilbo? Is everything all right?” Crossing the room, she opened the door into the hallway and, upon finding it empty, quietly made her way towards the main corridor.

“I want this fortress made safe by sunup! This mountain was hard won - I will not see it taken again!”

“The people of Lake-town having nothing!” She heard Bilbo argue back angrily. “They come to us in need! They have lost everything!”

Coming to a stop at the end of the corridor, Arya peeked her head out of the shadows just in time to see Thorin whirl around and glare at Bilbo. “Do not tell me what _they_ have lost. I know well enough their hardship. Those who have lived through dragonfire should rejoice. They have much to be grateful for.” Practically spitting with anger, he pivoted around and made his way back towards the throne room. “More stone! BRING MORE STONE TO THE GATE!”

A rough hand wrapped itself around her arm, and Arya whirled around, stifling a scream in throat.

“Shh, lass, it’s only me,” Dwalin whispered, his eyes flickering down towards the retreating form of the king. “Go back to yer room.”

“What?” She spoke lowly, trying to pull her arm out of his grip. “This is madness, I -”

“Will do no good down there, not right now. Please, lass,” his voice softened as his eyes came back to her own. “Get yer rest. We will need yer strength in the morning.”

Arya sighed, but allowed Dwalin to escort her back to her room. And though she laid back down almost immediately, still under his watchful eye, sleep was long in coming.

 


	18. The Clouds Burst

When Dwalin entered her quarters the next morning, Arya was awake and dressed, pacing anxiously in front of the now cold fireplace. “What’s going on?”

“The ravens say the men of Dale come to bargain,” he murmured lowly, crossing the room in quick strides.

“Okay, then we bargain,” she replied confidently, about to step around him. He caught hold of her arm, all but stopping her in her tracks.

“Thorin will not bargain.”

“Thorin is not himself!” She spat back quietly.

“Aye, lassie,” he murmured, turning to eye the door. “Ye cannae join us at the barricade.”

“And why is that?”

“I fear, besides the Arkenstone, that ye are now the greatest treasure under the mountain,” he turned back around, dropping an eye onto her ring. “Did Thorin tell you -”

“Tell me what? Is there something wrong with the ring?”

Dwalin growled something in khuzdul before dropping her hand. “Nay. Yer fine, lass. But now that ye’ve made yer affection known, he ‘as begun to speak of ye as his bounty.”

“WHAT?!”

“Tis why you must stay out of sight,” he whispered, covering her mouth with one of his hands. “If ye wish to hear what ‘appens at the barricade, go to the top of the gate, and by Mahal’s beard, dun let the Company see ye.” With that, Dwalin swept out of the room, the door shutting with a thud behind him. “She is safe, yer highness!” She heard Dwalin holler as he headed back down the corridor. Arya couldn’t hear just what Thorin’s response was, other than that it was a rumbling affirmation, but she waited until the echoes of their footsteps couldn’t be heard before stepping towards the door.

The door swung open noiselessly. Sticking her head out slowly into the hallway, she waited until her eyes adjusted to the shadow before moving further. Finally, confident that no dwarf was waiting for her in the hallway, Arya quietly ran down the hall. Instead of taking a right, which led her to the throne room, she hung a quick left and continued to run, making her way to a shallow staircase that (thankfully) led to the Gate.

She was just in time, too. The moment the day’s light touched her face, Bard’s voice echoed up the mountainside. She drew back, hiding herself in the shadows just beyond the sight of the outside world. “Hail Thorin, son of Thrain! We are glad to find you alive beyond hope.”

“Why do come to the gates of the king under the mountain armed for war?”

“Why does the king under the mountain fence himself in? Like a robber in his hole.”

“Perhaps it is because I am expecting to be robbed.”

_Damnit, Thorin._

“My lord - We have not come to rob you, but to seek fair settlement. Will you not speak with me?”

“I’m listening.”

“On behalf of the people of Laketown, I ask that you honor your pledge. A share of the treasure so that they might rebuild their lives, and the aid of your healers to assist the wounded.”

“I will not treat with any man while an armed host lies before my door, and I will not allow our healer to leave the sanctuary of the mountain,” he replied back with a growl.

“You keep your friends as prisoners, then?” Bard’s voice became icy. “That armed host will attack this mountain and free your prisoners, if we do not come to terms.”

“Your threats do not sway me.”

“What of your conscience? Does it not tell you our cause is just?! My people offered you help. And in return you brought upon them only ruin and death!”

“When did the men of Laketown come to our aid, but for the promise of rich reward?!”

“A bargain was struck!”

“A bargain? What choice did we have but to barter our birthright for blankets and food? To ransom our future in exchange for our freedom? You call that a fair trade? Tell me, Bard the Dragonslayer, why should I honor such terms?”

“Because you gave us your word. Does that mean nothing?”

For once, Thorin was silent. Unfortunately, Bard did not remain so.

“And what of Miss Callahan? Will you keep her locked away under stone? She belongs with her people!”

“SHE BELONGS TO ME!” Thorin roared back. Gasping, Arya stumbled back at the loud sound. “NOW, BE GONE!”

Bard snarled something beyond her range of hearing, and the sound of a retreating horse signaled that negotiations were over.

“What are you doing?! You cannot go to war!” She heard Bilbo’s voice shriek.

“This does not concern you. DWALIN, SHOW HER TO ME AT ONCE!”

_SHIT._ Arya turned around and sprinted down the stairs, barely making it back to her room before the dwarves entered the royal corridor. Thankfully, Bilbo and Thorin had kept arguing – loudly – during her trek, meaning she’d been able to judge just how much time she had by the sheer volume of their voices. And as the door to her room swung shut and she situated herself in the great chair by the room’s solitary window, they continued to holler at each other.

“ - army of elves has joined them, Thorin, you cannot possibly win -”

“Dain and his armies are on their way, Master Baggins. I will not sacrifice our kingdom for anyone!” The door to her quarters flew open, and in spite of the fact that Arya knew they were coming, she flinched in her chair at the sound.

“Dori, see the men to the armory,” Thorin ordered, his eyes on the guard. “We have reclaimed Erebor, and now we will defend it!” With that, he turned around, and as his eyes met Arya’s he breathed out a sigh of relief.

“You’re safe,” he murmured, quickly crossing the room.

_Play dumb, Callahan. You can do this. “_ Of course I am,” she replied, standing as he reached her. “I heard shouting, is everything all right?”

“It will be,” he murmured, grabbing her by the waist and pulling her close.

“Is there anything I can help with?”

“No!” He hollered back. She flinched as his volume, and his face softened as he began to run his fingers through her curls once again. “No, **iduzhibuh _,”_** he murmured softly. “I just need you safe.”

Arya forced herself to exhale slowly, keeping the nerves she felt locked down in her stomach. She dropped her head into his hand and, grabbing hold of him by the cloak, pulled him in close. “Are you going to tell me what that means?”

“Someday,” he murmured, a flicker of _her_ Thorin gleaming in his eyes. “But not today.” Leaning forward, he pressed a quick kiss to her forehead and pivoted, striding back towards the door to her quarters. “Dwalin, guard the door at all times. She is not to leave these quarters.”

“WHAT? No, Thorin -” She raced after him, but the door slammed shut with a resounding thud. Yelling loudly, she began to bang her fists against the door. “DWALIN! Please!”

“Not without the king’s permission, lass,” he hollered back, stiffer than usual. Perfect. Thorin was still on the other side of the door.

Growling, Arya turned away from the door and ran towards the window. She jumped up onto the chair and, gazing at the field in front of her, stared in horror at the great host of men and elves camping just over the crest of the valley.

Something flickered in her eye. Arya glanced down and saw the ring – her ring – winking back at her. “No,” she gasped, tears filling her eyes. “No, please.”

But it was too late.

She’d already lost him.

\--

“He believes one of them has taken it.”

Sighing, Arya turned to face Bilbo. He’d snuck in a while ago – invisibly, when Dwalin was looking the other way – and the two were conversing quietly in front of the now roaring fire as night fell outside.

“Taken what?”

Bilbo shot her an unimpressed look. Sighing again, she nodded. “I know, dumb question. Do you know -”

“It’s safe,” he whispered, glancing at the door.

“Good,” she exhaled sharply, leaning against the fireplace with a thud.

“He believes them to be false. And they’re - they’re just as bad as he is,” Bilbo snorted derisively with a shake of his head. “They’re willing to die to prevent a single coin from leaving this mountain.” This time, it was Bilbo who sighed, and when he looked up at Arya, it was with pity in his eyes. “He is not himself.”

“No,” she replied, her throat choking up. “He is not.”

Bilbo was silent for a moment, his eyes studying her. “But you knew this.”

“Yes,” she whispered, wrapping the blanket tighter across her chest.

“Then you know we cannot go to war with the men and elves.”

“Yes.”

“What are we to do then?”

_I have to break his heart. And mine._ Arya swallowed down her tears again before throwing her shoulders back. “I have a plan. But I’ll need your help.”

Bilbo crossed over to her, nodding all the way. “Whatever you need.”

“I need you to leave.”

\--

Arya didn’t sleep that night. The minute Bilbo left with his mission, Arya threw herself into her own plans.

She’d had Bilbo take her bag with him, under the pretense of giving Bard a sign that she was all right. In reality, she wanted to ensure that it wasn’t trapped in the mountain when the battle started. If the Battle of the Five Armies was anything like she imagined it to be, she wanted access to as much medical equipment as she possibly could have.

Because that was the problem. In the book, Thorin’s relationship with Bilbo had been the determining factor in his subsequent recovery and heroics. But in reality, she’d botched that all up the minute she joined the company. The only person’s betrayal that might break through to Thorin now would be her own.

Of course, she didn’t tell Bilbo that. She let him believe that _he_ had to be the one to own up to it and leave the mountain. He’d agreed right away of course, not caring that he’d have to sacrifice his place at Dwalin’s side to do it, but Arya wasn’t about to let her first and truest friend in Middle-Earth break his own heart. One of them deserved their happily ever after.

She took a final look at her reflection in the mirror. Her green dress had been shoved back into the bag in exchange for a plain white blouse and her dark green gardening pants. She’d braided her hair back, letting it hang over her right shoulder, and she’d painted her eyes uncharacteristically dark.

She needed whatever strength she could get.

“You have to do this,” she said to herself, ignoring the way her reflection became misty-eyed. “This is why you’re here.” She glanced down at the ring still on her finger, twisting it around in a circle. “It’ll be fine.”

The ring didn’t answer.

With one last teary sigh, Arya turned it back around so the sapphire faced her palm and made her way towards the door. She was just about to open it when Bilbo pushed his way in.

“It’s time.”

\--

“Are you sure you want to be here for this? Thorin will be furious -”

“He’ll be furious no matter what,” she replied quietly, following Bilbo at a brisk jog towards the gate. “I’m going to be there with you, until the end.”

Nodding, Bilbo shot her one last watery glance before coming to a stop at the entrance to the gate.

The dwarves were already there, arrayed in their finest armor. For once, they didn’t glance over at Arya and Bilbo’s entrance, and she was grateful for it. If she had to look one of them in the eye before – well, she might lose her nerve.

“So, the Elvenking has come for war,” Thorin growled out.

“On the contrary," the alleged Elvenking responded from below. “We have come to tell you that payment of your debt has been offered and accepted.”

“What payment?” Thorin scoffed, sneering down at the gathered assemblage. “You have nothing!"

“We have this.”

Thorin's face fell open in shock. The rest of the dwarves, save Dwalin, began to scream at the top of their lungs.

“They have the Arkenstone?”

“THIEVES!”

“How came them by this?”

“That is the King’s Jewel!”

“The stone belongs to the King!”

“And the King may have it!” Bard’s voice roared over that of the dwarves. “But first he must honor his word.”

“THE ARKENSTONE IS IN THIS MOUNTAIN! IT IS A TRICK!” Thorin finally roared back, his face growing red with age.

“I can assure you, your majesty, it is no trick.” Arya could practically hear the smirk in the Elvenking’s voice. “One of your Company delivered it to us last night.”

Every dwarf on the gate froze. “I don’t believe you.”

“Believe it, King Under the Mountain,” Gandalf’s voice echoed up the mountain. “I was there myself.”

Thorin turned away from the armies, his face purple with rage. “Who did this?”

No one answered. They all just stared at the King.

“WHO! DID! THIS!”

_Shoulders back, Callahan. You can do this._

_You have to._

Arya saw Bilbo shoot Dwalin a comforting nod out of the corner of her eye. Breathing deeply, he opened his mouth to speak -

And Arya beat him to it.

“I did it.”

At the sound of her voice, all of the Company – including Bilbo – turned to look at her in horror. Thorin’s face paled almost instantly, and the sword at his side clattered onto the ground.

“Arya, what are you -”

“Stay back, Bilbo,” she whispered, sparing only a glance for her friend. “It’s all right.” Her eyes swept back towards Thorin, whose gaze hadn’t moved from her face. The other dwarves were looking back and forth between herself and the king, their faces growing angrier and angrier with every passing second.

"You -”

“I took it, as my fifteenth share,” she replied, stepping quickly onto the gate, in full view of the Company – and the sea of people down below. At her appearance, the peoples below burst into noise.

“You - you would steal from me?” Thorin murmured again, something wounded flaring to life in his eyes.

“Of course not. I have no interest in jewels or gold.” The remaining dwarves fell back, as if she’d physically struck them. “But I will not see the people of Lake-town suffer. I took the Arkenstone as my claim, and it will remain with the people of Lake-town until you fulfill your word.”

“Claim?” Thorin’s pale-face began to flush again, and he stalked towards her. “Your claim? You have no claim over me!”

Something in Arya’s chest broke at his snarling words. “Why? WHY? WHY WOULD YOU DO THIS TO ME?”

“Thorin, the treasure, it’s driving you mad! This,” she sputtered, waving her hand over the length of his body, “this is not the dwarf I – I -”

“You WHAT?” He snarled, stopping mere inches away from her.

“ - I fell in love with,” she finished softly, tears pooling in her eyes.

He froze, for just a moment, and in her naivete she thought she’d managed to get through to him. She reached out to touch him, and her motion snapped him out of whatever daze he was in. Growling, he grabbed hold of her moving arm before it reached his face and squeezed. “Do not speak to me of love,” he spat, eyes tracing over her with disgust. “Not after what you’ve done.” Yanking on her arm, he slammed her against the stone wall. His grip tightened as she collided with the wall, digging painfully into her radius. “You TRAITOROUS WHORE!” He moved to lift her over the gates, to the anxious cries of the elves and men below. She gasped, struggling against his grip, but to no avail.“CURSE YOU!” He screamed, spittle flying from his foaming lips. “CURSED BE THE WIZARD THAT FORCED YOU UPON THIS COMPANY! CURSED BE EVERY MOMENT OF YOUR DAYS!”

“If you don’t like my healer, then please don’t damage her,” Gandalf’s voice thundered from below. “Return her to me at once!”

Thorin’s grip slacked at the dark tone of Gandalf’s voice, and before Arya knew it Dwalin had wrestled her from Thorin’s grasp and was all but carrying her to the side of the gate. “You’re not making a very splendid figure as King under the Mountain, are you, Thorin, son of Thrain?”

“Can you climb?” Dwalin whispered under his breath.

“I - yes,” she nodded, shivering at the glare in Fili’s eyes as they passed him by. “But you have to make it look good.”

“Lass, I -”

“Dwalin,” she turned to look at him and nodded. “Trust me.”

Huffing, Dwalin peered over the side of the cliff. Gazing down, he nodded. “Aye. Yer right.” He turned back to face her, and the look on his face almost broke her heart. “Lass -”

She nodded frantically, blinking back tears in her eyes. “I know.”

“LEAVE, YOU FAITHLESS HARLOT! LEAVE AND NEVER RETURN!”

Exhaling sharply, Dwalin nodded once more in her direction. Then, lifting her into his arms, he tossed her down the side of the mountain, onto the stairs leading down from the gate. Arya bit back a squeal and shut her eyes, bracing for impact, but instead found herself snatched out of the air.

Gasping, she forced her eyes back open, and she found herself staring into the eyes of a terrified Tauriel. “Arya, are you all right?”

Everything else snapped back to focus along with her voice: the declarations of death issuing from her – from Thorin’s mouth. The orders of the Elvenking to kill him on sight. And the frantic hollers of Gandalf the Gray, desperately trying to maintain peace.

But Tauriel’s green eyes were concerned and sorrowful, and Arya held onto that like a lifeline. Nodding, she barely stifled a sob before throwing herself forward and wrapping her arms around Tauriel. Tauriel picked her up gently, sparing not a look for the dwarves watching angrily from the gate.

The elf moved like water, silkily leaping down the stairs of the mountain like water dancing across rocks. Her steps slowed once they were on grass, and Arya opened her eyes in time to see a concerned looking blonde elf nod in greeting.

“Take her to the camp."

Tauriel murmured in ascent, and with Arya still in her arms, she began running towards a tall embankment on the other side of the armies.

“ - and hear this! If any of you harbor the traitor within your homes, you will be considered an enemy to Erebor and its people, and you will die at our hands!”

“Believe me, Thorin Oakenshield,” Bard spat in reply, “you will not get the chance.”

“Then,” Thorin’s voice chased her across the field, “we will have war!”

\--

Tauriel ran her fingers lightly over Arya’s arm. "It will not leave a mark. At least, not one that you can see.” Arya’s heart twinged at her comment, but she only nodded her assent. Tauriel smiled sadly, and squeezed Arya’s hand in her own. It was the only comfort she could offer her now.

Sighing, Arya pushed herself to her feet just as the flap to the tent was pulled back. Bard was the first through the opening, and upon seeing her battered state, he sprinted over to her and wrapped her up into his arms. “Are you all right?”

“Yes,” she replied shakily. “It had to be done.”

“Not by you!”

“Yes, by me,” she nodded into his chest. “I need to be here. Your healers will need all the help they can get. I have to be here.”

“But at this cost? Of endangering your own life, of being killed by-”

“I’ve always known the cost. This is what I’m here to do.”

“Even if it kills you?”

Arya didn’t respond. She just relaxed into his arms, letting his warmth protect her for just a moment. From the horrors sure to come.

“ - don’t care what you say, Mithrandir, ridding the earth of Thorin Oakenshield is my top priority -” The Elvenking’s voice grew louder, and Arya raised her head just as a tall elf crossed into the tent. His long blonde hair laid in a perfect waterfall across his back, and on his head was a crown of pure silver, which matched the incandescent silver of his armor. Upon seeing Arya his fierce expression faltered, and he waved for Bard to step to the side.

“Arya Callahan,” he murmured, inclining his head in her direction. “It is an honor to finally meet you.”

“Arya,” Gandalf panted, coming to a stop behind Thranduil, “meet Thranduil, King of the Woodland Realm. Thranduil, Arya, daughter of -”

“Elbereth, yes, I know,” he spoke bitingly, his eyes never leaving Arya’s face. “I knew her well. But now is neither the time or place. Tauriel, escort her back to the Woodland Realm. I will take care of the dwarves.”

“No,” Arya bit out with a shake of her head, ignoring the way it made her neck ache. “I’m here to help.”

Thranduil’s face grew thunderous. “I will not allow you to continue to be reckless with your life or with the lives of my companions -”

“Which is why you need me to stay! War is coming, your majesty, and I can save the lives of your people.” She stepped quickly over to Thranduil, narrowing her brow to match his expression. “This is where I need to be.”

Thranduil let out a sharp huff of breath. He eyed Gandalf, who nodded at him in assent. “Fine,” the Elvenking spat. “Glorfindel!”

Another blonde elf stepped into the tent. “Yes my lord?”

“Escort Miss Callahan to the healing tent. Tauriel, find Legolas and get to the troops. Dragonslayer, Mithrandir, follow after me.” Thranduil shot Arya one last look before turning around and exiting the tent. Gandalf, shuffling over to the side of the tent, tossed her her bag with a knowing wink before following suit.

“Stay safe.” Bard tenderly kissed her hand. She sent him her most reassuring smile, and with a nod, he turned away and followed after Gandalf. Tauriel moved to exit next, but Arya grabbed hold of her hand before she got too far away.

“Keep an eye on them for me?”

Tauriel’s brow furrowed. “Who? Not – the dwarves?”

“Yes,” Arya nodded quickly, “please, watch out for them.”

“After everything they’ve done to you,” Tauriel’s eyes narrowed as she looked at Arya, “you still care for them?”

Tears, once again unbidden, sprung to Arya’s face. “Very much,” she barely murmured out.

Something in Tauriel’s face pinched at Arya’s words. Sighing, she pressed a quick kiss upon Arya’s brow. “Stay safe, _mellon nin.”_ Then, she was gone, and Arya was alone.

“This way, my lady,” the elf called Glorfindel beckoned. “The sooner we reach the tents, the safer you will be.”

A loud, haunting horn sang out, and every nerve in Arya’s body seemed to tingle all at once. Glorfindel whirled around. “The horn of the Iron Hills.”

“Time to go,” Arya rushed out, draping her bag around her shoulder. Glorfindel nodded, and the two ran from the tent, leaving Erebor – and the battlefield – behind.

 


	19. The Halls of Healing

Upon arriving at the healing tents and finding the current personnel in total disarray, Arya shoved the ring in her pocket, pinned her hair on top of her head and began barking out orders. Glorfindel, along with his team of seventeen elves, quickly organized the field hospital in in a more workable formation, and by the time reports came in that orcs had been spotted on the horizon, Arya felt as prepared as she could be, given the circumstances. One helper she’d designated solely as the “water-boy”, and he was currently running buckets of clean water in and out of the hospital. Four women, she’d counted, had actual surgical experience of some kind (all of them capable of delivering babies _and_ amputating limbs, of which Arya had done neither.) A group of three elven healers were also available and running through first aid basics with the remaining seventeen volunteers.

“ - if the wound appears serious, report it to one of us, and we will advise how to proceed. Brenna, Gerd, Tove and Unn, you four will take care of basic recovery and amputations. I’ll handle surgery and trauma care, and direct those available for post-surgery care on how to proceed,” Arya nodded confidently at the group, her ring of bruises forgotten. “Be prepared, this is likely to be a long day.”

“My lady,” one of Glorfindel’s teammates called into the tent, “the battle has begun!”

_So it has._ Swallowing sharply, Arya turned back to her team. “You heard him. To your positions, and good luck.”

The volunteers nodded in assent before making their way to their various pre-determined positions. Grabbing the nearest apron, Arya threw it around her neck and began dropping all sorts of various medical instruments into it.

“My lady.” Arya turned around to find -

“Sigrid? What are you doing here?”

“Da sent us apprentices to help.”

Arya slowed her movements, brow furrowing at the blonde girl. “You’re training to be a healer?”

She nodded in assent. “Been helpin’ deliver babes since Tilda was born.”

“Right,” Arya murmured. “Different world. Well, Sigrid,” she said, turning to look at her bag, “welcome to your crash course in trauma surgery.”

“Miss?”

Grabbing hold of her bag, she handed it to a slightly perplexed looking Sigrid. “Hold this and stay near me. It’ll hold everything we need to treat our patients. If you feel sick, hand the bag off to Glorfindel and he’ll take over until you’re recovered.”

“Of course, Miss.”

“Please,” she replied with a tired smile, “call me Arya. Come, we have work to do.”

\--

And work they did.

Wounded men – and elves – began pouring into the makeshift hospital about twenty minutes after the elf’s warning, and pretty soon Arya was running ragged. Sure, she’d been trained for this sort of surgical care, but nothing can really prepare someone for war. Thankfully, her four other deputized surgeons were quick to learn the finer points of stitches, and sword wounds were being taken care of with the brutal efficiency of veteran nurses. While her deputies mostly dealt with lesser cuts, Arya took upon the harder cases, sewing up muscle and deep tissue where necessary. Sigrid was a silent help beside her, often handing her the item she needed next before she asked for it. Another one of the apprentices – Iona, Sigrid’s friend – focused solely on disinfecting the nurses’ supplies, and before long a whole group of apprentices were running around, cleaning and distributing items to the surgeons that needed them.

Unfortunately, the cases became harder as the soldier poured in, and two of Arya’s deputies began having to amputate almost constantly. Soldiers with arrows protruding out of their bodies began arriving as well, and Arya had to move Glorfindel and three other elves from their posts as guards to help lift the injured, and hold them down, when necessary.

Sigrid and Iona were perfect, throughout it all. Iona brought over clean tools and water to the pair every fifteen minutes, and Sigrid was an excellent listener, taking in the information as quickly as Arya was speaking it.

“How long has it been, do you think?” Arya asked Glorfindel as he passed by.

“Only thirty minutes, my lady.”

“My lord!” The same elf from before came sprinting into the tent. “The dwarves – they are requesting our help with their wounded.”

Glorfindel whirled around to look at Arya, as if looking for her permission.

Fighting down the urge to get sick on her patient’s torso, she nodded. “Go ahead.”

Glorfindel turned and nodded to the elf.

And if she’d thought the tents were busy now, she was solely mistaken.

\--

She was just finishing up a rather nasty stab wound on the leg of a blustering, dark-haired dwarf when the first of the Company came through the door.

“Someone, help! The prince, he’s -” A frantic-looking Dwalin rushed into the room. His eyes, upon finding Arya, lightened significantly. “Lass!”

Jumping up, Arya’s eyes found Glorfindel. She nodded once, and the elf handed off his current patient to a different waiting member of his team. The pair, followed by Sigrid, quickly made their way out of the main tent and into one of the private ones.

“Lass, I -”

“Later,” she rushed out. “Who is it? What happened?”

“It’s Fili,” he panted as they stepped into the small tent. Four small tables were laid in a rectangular formation, and there, on the far left, was a far-too-pale Fili. “Been impaled with a sword.”

 “Oh my God,” she murmured, freezing at the sight. “Right, okay, Dwalin, keep guard outside. No one comes in or out until I say so. Glorfindel, help me get his shirt off. I need to see what I’m dealing with. Sigrid, hold the light.”

Rushing over to the table, the group quickly set to work. Sigrid, although much paler than she had been when facing previous injuries, held the flashlight steady above his wound. The sword was no longer inside Fili, meaning that he was losing blood – and fast.

“Okay, first things first, we need to stop the bleeding.” Grabbing clamps out of her pocket, she pulled at the wound, wincing as Fili began to moan underneath her. “Sigrid, do you see any sort of glasses -” They were in her hand before she finished her sentence. “Excellent. Okay,” she said, sliding them on her face and pulling her facemask over her mouth, “time for some microsurgery.” Using the clamps to keep the skin back, she stuck her hands into the wound and began to work.

“Tweezers. Small clamps.” They were quickly placed in her hand. “Thankfully, it looks like the wound avoided his major organs, so we just have a few arteries to patch up. I’ll need a small suturing scissors and the tiniest thread we have available.” They, too, were placed on the table.

“How long will that take?”

“Too long,” she muttered. “Glorfindel, I could use some psychic elvish powers right about now.”

“His spirit is caught between our world and the shadow,” he replied calmly. “I shall alert you if that changes.”

“Good, good. Sigrid, find yourself a pair of glasses and get in here. You’ll want to watch this.”

\--

In the end, it only took her around twenty minutes to stitch Fili back up – which was a miracle in and of itself. As soon as the final suture was in Fili’s fourth artery, Glorfindel had announced that Fili had passed from out of the shadow, and would make a full recovery.

It was just in time, too, for no sooner than Arya had stepped back from Fili than Kili was rushed in, carried in by a slightly hassled looking Tauriel with Dwalin on her heels. Unlike his brother, the archer had three arrows protruding out of his chest, and he was slightly coherent.

“Lass -”

“The door, Dwalin,” she ordered, ripping off her gloves and throwing on new ones. “Sigrid, Glorfindel, you know the drill.”

And they did. Glorfindel, using his elvish magic to knock Kili out, ripped away his armor and shirt. “Okay,” Arya murmured, sliding her glasses and mask back on, “three arrows, all protruding out of his chest.” Grabbing the scissors out of her now-bloody apron, she snapped away the arrows, leaving just the tips imbedded. “The lower two look like they’re just in muscle, so those will be easier to stitch up. This one, however,” she said, pointing to the top one, “that one’s in the artery. We’ll do that one first.”

“How is she faring?”

“Well, although she has not rested in three hours.”

“There will be time to rest later,” Arya replied as Iona dashed back in with her disinfected supplies.

“Glorfindel, see to the others in your troop,” Tauriel’s voice ordered. “I will take over from here.”

“Are you sure? Can you judge whether or not they’re beyond the veil?”

“Far better than I,” Glorfindel spoke softly. “She has a healer’s spirit.”

“And a warrior’s heart. Now, go.” The blonde elf nodded, heading out of the tent, and Tauriel took up his position across from Arya. “What is it you are doing?”

“Microsurgery,” Sigrid replied quickly, “to make sure he doesn’t bleed out.”

“Incredible,” Tauriel murmured back. “He lies in shadow now, but there is hope.”

“Keep a watch on it and tell me if it changes. Sigrid, if you please, it’s time to suture.”

\--

Kili took slightly longer to patch up, mainly because there were a few touch and go moments when Tauriel sensed him slipping beyond the veil. In those instances, Arya had sped up her work, nearly jeopardizing her stitches in the process. Thankfully, the moments of uncertainty passed, and as Arya stepped away from Kili, it was with the knowledge that he would survive as well.

Another one saved.

Huffing out a tired breath, Arya accepted a large cup of water from a worn-out looking Iona when a crowd of thundering voices strode by.

“ - needs aid -”

“ - send for your best healers -”

“ - not the elves -”

“ - yes, anyone, whomever can help -”

“ - we must save the king!”

Arya’s heart dropped out of her chest. _The King._

_“_ Bring him here!” Dwalin barked out. “He may lie by his nephews!”

_Thorin._

“Quick, hide!” Arya whispered, pulling Sigrid and Iona into a crouch behind Kili’s table. Tauriel only stepped further in front of them, preventing anyone from seeing behind her.

“ - bloody she-elf doin’ in here?”

“I am watching their vitals, King Dain. As long as I am here, the princes shall not fall prey to the shadow,” she replied coolly.

“Yes, well, who’s fit ta treat ‘im, huh?”

“Let me worry about that,” Dwalin replied with a growl. “Go, find Balin. The Arkenstone is still missing.”

“Aye, and the traitor too! Come, lads! It’s time ta hunt!” With a loud cry several pounding footsteps exited the tent. Arya remained in hiding, just to be safe.

A few moments that felt like hours later, Dwalin’s voice dropped into a whisper. “Lass?”

“Here,” she replied, standing to her feet.

“Kili?”

“He’ll make it,” she nodded confidently. Dwalin relaxed somewhat at her expression, though his eyes kept flickering down at the newly occupied table.

“He dannae deserve it, lass, but Thorin -” She’d crossed the room before he’d finished speaking, Sigrid following close behind her. But as she drew near to the King’s prone form, she froze.

Like his nephews, Thorin Oakenshield was an ashen gray. But unlike his nephews, the dagger in his chest was protruding from his heart, and his breaths were few and labored.

“Lass, is he -”

“Keep watch, Dwalin,” she ordered, her teary eyes never leaving Thorin’s face. “Under no circumstances is anyone allowed into this tent without my express permission, do you understand me?” The dwarf had tears in his eyes, but he obeyed, rushing out the front of the tent as soon as the words had left her lips. “Tauriel?”

“I do not know, my lady,” she murmured sadly. “His heart is in pain.”

“Well,” Arya swallowed back a sob at the _fucking irony_ of it all, “I’m not a certified heart surgeon, but with any luck it’ll only be minimally invasive. Sigrid, Iona, we need to be on our game with this one.” Stepping forward, she slid her face mask up and pulled a fresh pair of gloves out of her apron. “Mahal help me.”

Arya leaned over Thorin’s body, and she got to work.

She ignored everything, the hollering outside the tent, the anxious humming of the elf standing across from her, the sounds of broken-hearted families realizing that the healers couldn’t save everyone. None of it mattered. All that mattered was keeping the heart in her hands beating. And two hours later, as she sowed the final suture into Thorin’s destroyed aorta, something within her settled.

“He will survive,” Tauriel breathed out in awe. “He has lost much blood, and his recovery will be long, but he will survive. As if he had never been injured in the first place.”

Arya bit back tears, focusing on sewing the small holes in his chest up. Once that was done, she drew away, placed a stethoscope on his heart and listened.

And there it was. Steady, somewhat strained, but strong.

“We did it,” she murmured, her tears finally streaming down her face.

“No. You did it,” Tauriel spoke softly.

“ - far too long alone in there with the elf, I do not trust it -”

“Silence, Dain! She will alert us when it is time.”

“You need to say your goodbyes quickly,” Tauriel whispered. “The sooner you leave, the better.”

“Right,” Arya nodded dumbly, her eyes not leaving Thorin’s unconscious form. “Right.” She drew her now blood-soaked apron off of her head, handing it to Sigrid along with her face mask, bag and gloves. “Sneak out the back and head back to the field hospital. If anyone asks, say that you were assisting in some elvish surgeries and that you need to speak with Glorfindel. Don’t tell anyone I was here, or that you were with me,” she said, her eyes leaving Thorin’s only to give Sigrid a serious look. “Okay?”

Sigrid nodded, her eyes wide with exhaustion. “Yes, miss.”

“Good,” Arya sent her a tired smile. “You did well today. You should be proud.”

The young woman blushed bright red and crawled under the back of the tent. Arya turned to look at Tauriel, who was, in turn, watching her. “It’s time.”

Arya shut her eyes, tears threatening to overwhelm her once again. “I know.” Rising to her feet, Arya dropped her eyes to Thorin, taking in one last look at him.

She let the tears flow now. Pressing a gentle kiss against his forehead, she slipped the ring out of her pocket and placed it in his hands. “Thorin, I -” She couldn’t finish. Biting back her sobs, Arya pulled away and followed Tauriel out the back of the tent.


	20. Beyond Sorrow and Grief

Exiting the text was an exercise in staying upright. Tauriel moved with her typical grace, her eyes constantly scanning the assorted troops running around the field hospital. Arya’s exit was less of an exit and more of a fall _out_ of the tent. She gasped as she did so, greedily drinking in the outside air. It was cool and stained with the smell of battle, but Arya drank it in like she’d never breathe again. Tauriel, noting her sudden exhaustion, wrapped an arm around Arya’s waist and practically carried her forward, quickly removing them from the herd of dwarves and into the anonymity of the other healing tents.

“You can stay here no longer.”

“What? No, there’s more that I can do -”

“You have done much already, and the dwarves are out for your blood,” she replied softly as they continued past one of the amputee-recovery tents. The sounds of screaming men, previously just background noise to her work, now drove a cold dagger into her spine, and if it wasn’t for Tauriel practically carrying her, Arya might have collapsed on the ground. “I made a promise long ago to protect you. I will see that promise through. Just keep your head down; we must pass unhindered.”

It was in that moment, of course, that Arya and Tauriel were dragged into the shadows of one of the nearby tents. Tauriel had drawn her bow in the blink of an eye, and upon seeing it was Gandalf, muttered something in Sindarin under her breath. “I could have hurt you, Mithrandir.”

“No, but you would have been discovered,” Gandalf panted, dragging the flap of the tent closed behind them. He was just in time too; as soon as the cloth fluttered together, what sounded like a horde of dwarves ran past their tent, their metallic boots thudding against the ground. "They are growing more and more desperate,” he murmured, his brow drawn in a deep furrow.

“Because of the stone?”

“Because of the curse,” Gandalf replied softly, his eyes dropping onto Arya. “Erebor is a dragon’s hoard, my dear; Smaug’s sickness lies upon it.”

“Can you break the curse?”

“Yes, but it will not be easy. Exposure to the mountain has already begun to drive Dain mad. Even the Elvenking is susceptible to its influence.” Gandalf’s gaze shot over to Tauriel. “You must return to the dwarven tents. Dain expects your presence there.”

“I swore an oath -”

“And it will be fulfilled,” he replied gently. “But for now, you must keep your distance.”

Tauriel glared at him for a few moments before turning to Arya. “Be safe, _mellon nin_.” With a final wordless _look_ at Gandalf, she disappeared from the tent.

As soon as her footsteps had faded under the hum of the whimpering wounded, Gandalf turned his attention back to Arya. “Make for the trees. Once you are there, call for Roheryn; he will deliver you to safety. I will buy you whatever time I can. Go, now!” He all but shoved her out the back of the tent. Arya gasped in the cool night air, and at the sound of stomping boots headed towards the tent, she did his bidding and began to run. Gandalf began to holler loudly behind her, and was answered by that some broguish voice from before. Whatever he was saying, however, was left behind in the wind as she raced for the tree line.

She almost made it, too.

Arya was less than a hundred feet away from the trees when a dark blur emerged from the shadows and _pounced._ Shrieking, she tried her best to evade the movement, but she saw it too late. The blur tackled her onto the ground, and her body collided with the hard ground underneath, momentarily knocking the breath out of her. “No, please, HELP!” She screamed, rolling over onto her back so she was facing her attacker. Any other words she may have spoken died with the sensation of metal on her throat. Swallowing reflexively, her eyes adjusted to the dim light of the early evening, and her stomach leapt into her throat.

“Ye won’t be getting' away so easy, lass,” Bofur smiled with sharp teeth, rubbing the knife back and forth across her neck. “Come. The Lord of the Iron Hills wishes to make yer acquaintance.”

\--

“ -  will not stand down before any elf! Not least this faithless woodland sprite!” A large contingent of dwarves stood in the midst of the battlefield, facing off a similarly-sized group of elves. About twenty men from Dale stood beside the elves, with Bard taking up a place of honor alongside the Elvenking.

“Unless you wish to have the blood of your people on yours hands, you will do just that. My people will see that the mountain is cared for.”

“Over my dead body!”

“That can be arranged.”

“No one is to enter that mountain until the curse is broken! It is affecting you all!” Gandalf argued from behind the dwarves. The dwarves just snarled in reply.

“The damned wizard wants it for himself!”

“If any has a right, it is the men of Dale!”

“Apologies, yer majesty,” Bofur spoke loudly. He shoved Arya into the center of the gathering, ignoring the way she teetered dangerously. He’d made her walk at knifepoint from the edge of the wood, and between the stress and exhaustion, she was moments away from passing out. “I found the girl.” A sharp pain slammed into the back of her left shin and she fell onto the ground, her hands scraping against the rough terrain.

“I see,” a heavy brogue replied. She glanced up in time to see a red-headed dwarf emerge from the gathered dwarven entourage, his dark eyes glaring down at her. “Well done, Bofur. There’ll be a place for ye in the royal house yet.”

Arya blinked, and a line of elves were aiming their drawn bows at the dwarves. “If you so much as blink,” a tall, blonde elf snarled, “I will kill you where you stand.”

“As will we,” Bard thundered, walking over to stand in place beside the elf.

The redheaded dwarf threw his head back in a laugh. “Do ye hear that, lads? These boys’re just achin’ for a good fight. Why else would they be fallin’ all over this she-rat?” He turned in her direction, and the elf drew his bow back further.

“Just give me a reason,” the elf snarled, his eyes narrowing.

“This is quite enough!” Gandalf boomed, stepping into the clearing. “There will be plenty of time to sort out this mess the mountain has been cleansed. Until then, **_you will all stand down_**.”

The ground around Arya shuddered and the sky grew dark with Gandalf’s voice. The elves began to speak amongst themselves, loosening their bows somewhat. Dain stumbled backwards into the dwarves as the darkness faded, and Arya took advantage of his imbalance to stand up.

She’d forgotten, of course, that Bofur was right behind her, and as soon as she’d stood his knife was once again at her throat. “I await your orders, Lord Dain!”

Quick as a wink, the elves had strung up their bows, though this time the majority of them were aiming at Bofur. “Move and you will die,” Thranduil barked from atop his steed, although his eyes were filled with fear.

“I will gladly die for Erebor,” Bofur snarled behind her, pressing the knife closer to her carotid artery.

“Go, then,” Dain said, a sharp grin spreading onto his face. “Do your duty, and be welcomed into the halls of our fathers.” The dwarves began to cheer loudly, wildly behind Dain, and Arya's eyes slid shut. _So this is how it ends._

“I don’t think so.”

A gust of wind ripped past Arya, and the pressure at her throat suddenly vanished. She tore open her eyes, and there, standing in front of her, was a face she’d only ever seen in photographs.

“Mom?”

Elizabeth Callahan beamed. She was dressed much like Anna was on that day so long ago, and her hair was loosely bound in brad that she’d draped across her shoulders. Her eyes, like Anna’s, seemed older than the years on her face, but they held nothing but warmth as they gazed at Arya. “Hello, sweetheart. It’s been a long time.”

“I’m - what? How? Why?”

“The same way as how you got here, my dear,” she replied resolutely. “And to do what parents do: keep their children safe.”

" - sort of witchcraft is this?”

“ - cannot be -”

“ - _Elbereth -”_

_“_ Say hello to Ms. Harrison for me, won’t you?” Elizabeth ignored the increasingly frantic tones of the men surrounding them.

“Ms. Harrison?” Arya frowned as she stared at her mother. “What are you talking about?”

Elizabeth’s smile grew sad, but she didn’t slow her motions. She reached towards Arya and, grasping Arya’s head between her hands, she pressed a gentle kiss against her forehead. “See you soon.”

“ - is she doing?!”

“STOP HER!”

“What -”

Elizabeth’s eyes fluttered shut, and the world around Arya dissolved into a white light.

 


	21. Even Dragons Have Their Endings

_“_ More tea, dear?”

“Hmm?” Arya jolted back to present. She glanced up from watching her fingers run through Mitzy’s hair to find Ms. Harrison watching her expectantly. “Oh, yes, that’d be great, thank you.”

Ms. Harrison huffed, unimpressed, but filled up the pink porcelain teacup nonetheless. “It's still not too late to get a tree, you know. Howard’s been keeping an eye on their stock, and they just got another batch of pine furs in. Honestly, how can you hope to celebrate Christmas without a tree?”

“Mmmm,” was all that Arya replied.

Julie Harrison shot a look at Barnum, who looked equally unimpressed with their guest’s distraction. Shaking her head, she turned to look at the still-too-thin-and-pale young woman sitting across from her, and felt her own chest tighten with concern. “It’s been six months now, hasn’t it?”

“And thirteen days.”

She tutted, dropping an extra sugar cube into Arya’s tea for good measure. “Fixating on it won’t change anything, I’m afraid.”

“I know,” Arya sighed, reaching for her now-filled teacup. Samson began circling around her ankles, and she reached down quickly to pet him before resuming her ministrations on Mitzy’s back. “I just thought there might be a happily ever after. Or something. But I was wrong. Really, really wrong.”

She thought back to her obsessively washed trousers in the brand-new backpack sitting next to her door. To the journals she’d filled with all of the botanical tips and tricks she’d learned from the Tooks. To that well-worn copy of “The Hobbit” that she couldn’t throw away. To the shattered television still in a trash-bag in the kitchen because she’d thrown a mug at it when a trailer showing Bilbo and _them_ and _him_ for a new movie adaptation had the misfortune of gracing her screen. And finally, to the tattooed forget-me-nots on her left side, leftover from a day when she was confident she could look at the flowers without thinking of _him_. (She was wrong.)

“Of course there was no happily ever after,” Ms. Harrison gazed at her sympathetically. Reaching over the small table, she gently patted Arya's arm, and her eyes grew warm with a certainty she’d only seen in a certain wizard. “Your story is just beginning.”

\--

“Tira has declared the Queen’s Quarters ready for residence.”

He didn’t respond.

"It’s been six months. The council is beginning to get restless. Either you agree to their -”

“No.”

“Then you must tell them the truth.”

Silence.

Dis sighed, turning her back to her brother. “They will not wait forever, Thorin. You will have to tell them.”

Nothing.

If Dis knew her brother’s eyes were following her as she left the Great Hall, she didn’t let on. The doors slid shut softly behind her, and it was only in the privacy of solitude that he dared to risk a glance at the small piece of metal clutched between his fingers.

_“This one.”_

He pressed the silver to his lips, and in the solitude of that hallowed hall, the King Under the Mountain wept.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And so ends part one! I can't tell you how long I've spent trying to get this in position for part two - in which our fearless author attempts some smut, and our heroes get their happily ever afters. Seriously, I was just going to write oneshots, and then this story got away from me entirely. Anyways, I hope you enjoyed it, and stayed tuned for the sequel that I (will) be writing! Much love to you all <3


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